The Last Dragon
by Shiro715
Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought? Fem!Grimmjow. IchiFemGrimm. Rated T for now.
1. Suspicion

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

We begin this tale on the continent of Tamriel. Tamriel is a vast place, populated by many men and mer. It has nine provinces; there was High Rock, Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, Valenwood, Summerset Isles, Elsweyr, Black Marsh, Morrowind, and lastly, Skyrim. In this story, we are in Skyrim; a cold place that one, a land of arctic tundra, mountains and forests.

Now, this is a time long ago, ancient history that is only spoken of in legends. It takes place during a war that killed many on both sides. The Falmer, or the Snow Elves, and the Atmorans were fighting the Battle of Moesring. The Atmorans were winning, until the Snow Prince arrived. The best Atmoran warriors were felled by his magic, and it seemed like all was lost. Then suddenly, there was fire. Flames rained down from the heavens and onto the battlefield. Many were dead in an instant, including the Prince. He was struck in the chest and was killed.

Flying beasts flew through the skies, bewildering all who saw. Dragons; these were the gods of legend in the flesh! They flew through the skies with a deadly grace, casting their intimidating stare onto their prey: the Falmer. The battle raged on, the Atmorans taking the dragon's assistance in stride. Casualty after casualty, the Elves fell. Many believed to continue was futile, and fled. Any who stayed to fight were killed or captured.

The dwindling army of the Atmorans was silent after the last elf was cut down. All eyes were on the dragons that were circling above. The dragons looked back, their piercing eyes watching them intently. Suddenly, they swooped down. They flared their wings as they met their landing soundlessly, before tucking the leathery appendages to their backs.

The beasts stood tall and towered over the humans. The creature's heads were as big as one person! Their bodies were covered in thick scales, ranging in colors from dragon to dragon. Horns twisted from their skulls and many intricate spikes protruded from their spines. One of them stepped forward, drawing the eyes to it. Its long talons sunk into the soil with each step, until it stood before the frightened army. Who would not be afraid when a dragon was standing right in front of them? It could incinerate them all!

This dragon was also even larger than its kin. Its body was bigger, but leaner; built for speed. It was midnight black, but that was not what made the beast stand out. It had a white skull on its face, like a mask. Two white horns jutted out from the skull, pointing down its snout in a sharp point. There were also strange red stripes on the left side of the mask.

'_Predictable mortals,_' the dragon thought with a snort, smoke puffing out of his nose at the motion. He should have known that none of the humans would be articulate enough after seeing _dragons _of all things. Their kind was only legends to them. He raised his piercing golden irises set in black sclera to stare down at the humans. You could smell the fear in the air, but also curiosity.

"Do not fret. I wish you no harm," he spoke, his voice rough from not speaking the mortal language for so long.

He could see the shocked faces of the humans, before a bold man spoke up in the group, obviously not able to wait any longer. "Why did you help us?"

The dragon looked at the man, having heard him clearly. "The Snow Elves were age-old enemies. We saw the opportunity to be rid of them, and we took it," he answered.

It was true. The Snow Elves had arrived a thousand years ago, when the dragons were plentiful in Skyrim. They had been reduced to quite a small number after the Elves waged war against them.

'_The fiends,_' he growled his thoughts. He was not fond of those memories.

He noticed that the soldiers were more relaxed than before, now knowing that they had a common enemy. '_Good. That will make this easier._'

"I would like to speak to your leader," he spoke again, his eyes scanning the crowd for someone to step forward. Murmurs erupted from the crowd, but he ignored them and craned his neck to look back at his companions. He nodded once and when they all nodded back, he turned back around to see a man had stepped forward. He looked very young, maybe 19 or 20 years old. But, with the way he held himself, he could tell this man was a very skilled warrior.

"I am Genryuusai-Shigekuni Yamamoto. You wished to speak with me?" the man, Genryuusai, announced, and looked straight into his eyes. He smirked internally. This man was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, but judging by the look in the man's eyes, he chose the former.

"Yes," he replied, before he mumbled words under his breath. He heard his kin following his lead, and then concentrated on the words of power. He saw the puzzlement on the faces in front of him as they heard a bizarre language spill from their maws.

_The dragon surrenders their immortality and is given the aspects of a mortal._

"_Joor Slen Mun_," he uttered, feeling the power of the _Thu'um_ thrumming through his felt himself shrinking and then the slight discomfort of his bones shifting to accommodate his change in size, and then it was over.

Ichigo opened his eyes, and met the shocked ones of Genryuusai. They were now standing at eye level, even if he stood about half a foot taller than the man.

He looked behind him to see his comrades had also shifted, standing behind him, picking at their old, skimpy clothes, from when they had last shifted. It was strange, seeing them in their human forms again.

Ichigo turned back to Genryuusai and then began to scan the army. There was a mix of emotions on their faces. There was suspicion, fear, curiosity, and attraction. He had to hold back a chuckle at the last one.

Ichigo stood tall, his skin surprisingly tan with the cold of Skyrim. His body was muscled but lean, made for speed. Long, bright orange hair fell down his back, to his ankles. Orange bangs framed his face nicely. His eyes were now just gold irises, without the harsh black sclera surrounding them. Two red stripes curved under his left eye, remnants of his white mask. He was wearing a faded, brown skirt around his hips that cut off at his knees, a telltale of what once was a tunic. His chest and arms were bare, revealing many old, new, thin, and thick scars.

"I am Ichigo Kurosaki, and I am the leader of the dragons in Skyrim. I wanted to speak with you about a… truce between us," Ichigo said. His eyes were on Genryuusai even if he felt the eyes of his kin burning into his back.

"A truce?" the man questioned, before falling silent, as if thinking it over. "It would be the best decision to avoid another war."

"Exactly. We came to help you today to prevent a reoccurrence of a past war. We are small in number, and I do not think we will be able to handle another anytime soon."

"No, we will not. Our forces have been nearly wiped out this time..." Genryuusai stated, glancing behind him to his small group of soldiers.

"I just want to be able to coexist with you peacefully," Ichigo said.

"Very well. If we are causing any problems with your kind, come speak to me and I will have it fixed," the man declared.

Ichigo chuckled, before extending his hand out for Genryuusai to take. "I will be counting on you, Genryuusai. Truce?" he replied.

Genryuusai looked up at Ichigo before he took Ichigo's hand and gave it a shake. "Truce," he answered.

So, after the battle, the meetings with the humans, and the makings of the truce, the dragons changed back to their original form and departed. Everything was in disarray for a few weeks as the soldiers returned home and their victory was announced. The fact that the dragons helped them was never mentioned.

Many men migrated inland toward the young settlements in Skyrim after the Falmer's defeat. They settled far and wide, some going father to the other reaches of Tamriel. They built villages and cities that were plentiful of people. Rumors of the flying beasts in their region began to circulate and many did not believe that the dragons were their allies. How could anyone believe that dragons, the evil beings that terrorized their legends and fairytales, would be their allies? It got worse, however, when more rumors spread that dragons could transform into humans. A dragon could be their neighbor, and they would never know.

Genryuusai was quick to stamp out the rising confusion. He told of the dragons being nomadic, always on the move. They were hardly interested in their lifestyle, and were only asking for peace between their kinds. It helped the citizens stop worrying about the possible infiltration of their lives, and helped them tolerate the presence of the dragons in their province. But that was all it was; tolerance.

Genryuusai was right in a way that the dragons were not interested in their lifestyle. Most of them strayed away from the busy settlements. They preferred the quiet wilderness and the sky that held no boundaries. But, some liked to visit the settlements on occasions. It was mostly Ichigo. Ichigo was not afraid of the attention that his presence would bring, or the possibility of being caught. No matter how much his clan denied it, they were afraid. Ichigo did not understand what there was to be afraid of. The people were friendly, the foods and drinks they sold were different, and their customs and traditions were interesting. He usually enjoyed himself whenever he visited a city.

His favorite things about visiting the villages and cities were when he went to the orphanages. Ichigo loved children. He had no mate, so he had none to call his own. He spent so much time in the places that some of the younglings called him 'Brother.'

He made many allies as the years went by. He had many connections that kept him informed of things that happened behind closed doors. It helped him keep Genryuusai informed, too. Ichigo knew he had no obligation to help the man, but he wanted to return the favor for when he protected his clan. Genryuusai often joked about how Ichigo was his undercover spy, but he was not exactly wrong.

Everything seemed well in Skyrim. The province had been peaceful since the Atmorans, now called Nords, settled here. Genryuusai had kept his word and made sure that even if some of his people did not believe him about the dragons, his laws were followed. Ichigo got to watch the children in the orphanage grow up and move out, while new younglings moved in.

The peace did not last. Genryuusai was up in his years and needed a successor. A new General of the Imperial Army needed to be named. Ichigo was also often in Solitude, another major city in Skyrim that was the base of the Imperial Army. He was good friends with the man after the many years Genryuusai led the Nords. No one knew, but Ichigo had often assisted the man in decision-making. They trusted each other, but Ichigo did not think he could so easily trust Genryuusai's replacement.

Kugo Ginjo was the man's name. He was a mysterious man with a cruel smirk and Ichigo already knew that he could not be trusted. Nonetheless, something else had been bothering him. Genryuusai had said something strange the night he had died.

_Night had fallen over Solitude. The two moons were high in the sky, casting their light onto the city. The sky was clear and the wilderness was quiet like the calm before an impending storm._

_Ichigo eyed the guards atop the walls surrounding the city. _'This will be easy,' _he thought._

_He climbed the walls with ease using his claw-like nails. When he reached the top, he hesitated. He peeked over the edge and surveyed the path around him. A guard walked passed him completely oblivious to his form dangling off the stone wall. When the man's back was turned, Ichigo darted across the path and dove off the other side. He landed soundlessly on his feet and darted into the shadows cast by a nearby house. He looked up and saw the guard had just kept walking, not noticing a single movement._

_Ichigo relaxed. He thought sneaking into the fortified city would be more difficult. _'Peace must have softened them,' _he mused._

_Ichigo looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. The air was still and quiet. The city was bustling in the day with merchants and travelers, but during the night the whole city was silent. He knew something was going to happen tonight. Genryuusai was sickly and it got worse as each day passed._

_He glanced up to see the Blue Palace into the distance, where he knew Genryuusai would be sleeping. The blue roof shone in the moonlight quite nicely, giving the place an eerie look about it. Ichigo surveyed his surroundings again before he weaved through the alleys, making his way to the palace silently._

_Before he knew it, he was standing against one of the stone walls, watching guards pass through the courtyard of the place. When they turned a corner and were out of sight, he darted up the walls once more._

_The roofs were slick underneath his fur boots as he made his way towards the Jarl's chambers. He climbed up onto one of the window sills and gave the window a push before it opened and he jumped inside._

_Coughs came from the bed in the large room. "I-Ichigo?" he heard Genryuusai's voice rasp._

_"__Indeed, it is me." he called back, not moving closer to the bed where he heard some rustling before it was quiet._

_A wheezing chuckle came from Genryuusai, but it was humorless. "Ah, so… you know I'm going to die."_

_Ichigo did not answer. He only slowly walked to the bedside and he finally saw the state of the man. Granted, Ichigo had not seen him for a few weeks, but this was too much of a change to be healthy. Genryuusai's skin was gray and sagging on his bones. His eyes were dead like all the life in him had gone._

_"…__you're right, my friend. I wished to see you off to Sovngarde." Ichigo did not know why he said this. He and Genryuusai both knew that Ichigo did not believe in the Nord's afterlife. He only felt a tightening feeling in his chest as he saw his companion lying there, taking his final breathes._

_"__Sovngarde, eh?" he heard his friend mumble to himself. "I suppose my time on Nirn is over…"_

_Ichigo chose to stay silent, to let his friend have his final moments in peace._

_Genryuusai's breathing was getting labored more and more as the seconds ticked by and was the only sounds in the room until he spoke. "Ku-Kugo Gin-Ginjo," he stuttered out._

'Kugo Ginjo? Where have I heard that name before?' _he thought to himself. _'Oh, it was that man that Genryuusai named as his replacement…'

_ "__What about him?" Ichigo asked, wanting to at least get the man's answer before he was gone._

_ "__H-He... is a d-danger…" he heard the man say, making him tense. "…to y-your p-people…"_

Ichigo remembered that night all too clearly. Genryuusai's death still made his chest ache. The man was a close friend. He had done so much for Ichigo and had not asked for anything in return. Even in his final moments, he told Ichigo of impending danger.

'_Why would he say that Kugo Ginjo was dangerous, to the dragons no less?' _he pondered as he flew towards his den. Genryuusai had personally appointed that man. He would not put a dangerous man in power, would he? He did not think so. Genryuusai-Shigekuni Yamamoto was an honorable man. He would protect his people, and Ichigo's, with all his might.

The only explanation would be… that he was forced? That would make sense for any other person, but Ichigo knew Genryuusai. The man was as stubborn as an ox and did not respond well with force. If someone were to threaten his life, he would let the person kill him before he gave in. So how could Kugo have done it?

It was still a mystery to him.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: Finally, the first chapter is up. This is my first story, but don't go easy on me! Every review is appreciated!**

**- Shiro -**


	2. An Eye for an Eye

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

It had been a year after the death of Jarl Genryuusai, the General of the Imperial Legion. Many mourned the great man's death, honoring the memory of their beloved leader.

Kugo Ginjo had been named as Jarl of Solitude and General of the Imperials. He had been leading quietly, though he was suspicious. No one in the cities complained about unjust actions against them, so there was nothing he could do but wait for Kugo to slip up. Although, something strange had caught Ichigo's eye recently. More guards had been placed in every settlement.

Ichigo knew that the settlements were already well-protected as it was. Guards patrolled the city walls all day and all night in shifts. They also walked through the area to make sure there was no one sneaking about. So, why were they sending _more _guards? There were no serious criminals roaming about right now, he was sure of it. If they were not protecting them from that, then what were they protecting them from? There were no dangerous entities he could think of, unless…

Ichigo's eyes widened when it dawned on him. '_Dragons?! Are they protecting the citizens from us?_' But, they'd not done anything to raise caution, had they? No, they had not; they _could not_. Ichigo had been very clear to his clan in the beginning that they must keep the peace. If they could not follow the simple request, then they were told to stay away from the mortals.

Maybe, just the idea of dragons being amongst them had them worried. They could, after all, look, act, and speak like them. They had no idea if the next person they spoke to was one of them.

Ichigo flew absently toward his den as he thought, slipping his lean, reptilian body through the cave opening. The place was nestled deep into a mountain, safe from the cold winds and snow. Winter was arriving soon and it seemed like it was going to be harsh this year.

The dragon lay down on the smooth stone, glad for the shelter. He would rather not be caught in the icy winds. They were howling now, echoing through the cavern.

He could not take his mind off the current issue: the fact that the Nords were getting their guard up because of the _dragons_. Genryuusai had stopped that nonsense, had he not?

Although, many citizens had demanded proof that the dragons were their allies. They'd had only the man's word to reassure them. Ichigo had offered to step forward and show himself to them, but Genryuusai had immediately refused. He was obstinate about the fact that showing himself would be willingly putting himself in danger and that anyone would be able to identify him afterwards. Ichigo knew that, but Genryuusai would not budge over the subject. Unsurprisingly, the man had gotten his way.

Deciding to speak to Ryuken Ishida, his informant, sometime soon to get more details, he laid his head down, trying to push his thoughts away so he could try to get some sleep. He just began to drift off when he heard the flapping of wings before talons were clicking along the cave entrance.

"Ichigo!" he heard the dragon cry, recognizing him as Renji Abarai. The dragon was slightly smaller than Ichigo, with a deep red coloring. He sported intricate black tribal markings along his face and neck.

The dragon stood before him in his den, and you would expect Ichigo to be offended about the other's abrupt entry, but Renji had been his best friend for a long time.

Ichigo gave him an exasperated look. "You know, I was trying to take a nap," he grumbled.

Renji ignored him, a grim expression crossing his face. "You need to hear about this."

Ichigo sat up at this, immediately concerned. It must have been serious if it had the normally hyperactive Renji acting this way. "What's wrong?"

"It's about Kugo Ginjo," Renji stated, his face darkening.

Ichigo felt his stomach drop, now anticipating the worst. "What about him?"

Renji flinched and looked away, looking reluctant to tell him now.

"_Renji!_" Ichigo barked.

Renji jumped, startled, looking back to Ichigo who was looking a bit vicious, but he could see his worry. He heaved a sigh before collapsing in front of Ichigo. He looked like he was weighed down with fatigue.

"W-When me and Kira were flying over Windhelm…"

"What happened?"

"… the Imperials… attacked us…"

Ichigo froze. "What do you mean, _they attacked you_?" Ichigo's voice was calm, betraying the anger he felt at that moment.

Renji knew Ichigo's tone. It was scarier than when he flew into rages, but Renji managed to keep himself composed. "We were traveling back from a hunt. We just… flew over the city, like we did every day. But then… they just… started firing arrows." Renji explained, looking emotionally sapped. He had not looked this bad since the Snow Elves started the war so long ago.

Ichigo knew he was missing something. "Renji… where is Kira? Is he alright?"

Renji flinched again. "He's… dead, Ichigo…"

Renji was now completely drained, it seemed, as he let his head rest against the floor.

"Renji, it is not your fault."

Renji looked up at him, his eyes asking for reassurance. "You were both caught off guard, and fought as hard as you could. Kira did not go down without a fight, I know that for sure." Ichigo said, nudging Renji's snout with his own, wanting Renji to stop blaming himself. Nothing good ever came out of it.

Renji searched his eyes for a moment. He slowly sat up, never taking his crimson orbs away from Ichigo's golden ones. "I know you're going to avenge Kira. Don't try to fool me. You _know_ that the clan will want revenge once they find out about the attack." he stated, his voice firm.

Ichigo should have known Renji would have figured out about his plans. "I have to do some things before we can do anything about Kira. I am going to be heading to Riften to see Ryuken and then we will plan. But for now, pass on the message to wait."

Renji nodded, looking determined. "They won't be pleased, but they'll listen."

"Now you better go. Rukia will be missing you," Ichigo said, grinning a bit.

Renji huffed at the mention of his mate. "Yes, yes," he responded. "Goodbye."

Ichigo nodded. "Until next time," he remarked and then Renji was crawling back out the cave entrance out of sight, and then the fading sounds of wings gliding through the wind.

'_Now, it is time for some rest,_' Ichigo thought before he lay down, feeling weariness creeping into his bones. He sighed, closing his eyes, falling into a restless slumber.

**xXxXx**

When Ichigo woke, he felt like he had not slept at all; it felt as if exhaustion was weighing down on him. He laid there for a few minutes, stretching his sore muscles, twisting and curling about like a cat. Finally, he stood up and crawled out of his den. He burst out of the entrance and quickly swooped down to the valley at the bottom of the mountain. He had to travel by the trails this time; it would be too dangerous to fly with the Imperials now willing to attack his kind.

Today, he planned to see Ryuken. It was urgent now, because the Imperials had just declared war on the dragons. He knew that his clan would get impatient if he did not get moving right away.

"_Joor Slen Mun,_" he mumbled to himself, flinching a bit at the uncomfortable shift of his bones. He thought that his body would be used to the process by now, with how much he does it. He stood there a few minutes to stretch again, his stiff joints popping as he twisted around. It always took a moment or two to get used to the shift in body structure, no matter how much he shifts back and forth.

Ichigo took a moment to enjoy the wilderness around him. The sun was shining, but by no means was it was warm. Icy winds drifted down the mountains, covering the valleys in a layer of frost. The trees were like crystals as they glistened in the morning sun. The ice on their branches twinkled like diamonds and made the sunlight dance along the ground. It made for a beautiful sight as Ichigo looked around in awe; the winter season never failed to amaze him with its wonders.

He was no longer wearing rags. Over the years he had collected a few things in his wardrobe, but this was his best armor. He was wearing red and black light armor that hugged his body, with many straps and buckles running down the chest and across the waist. The armor included red gauntlets on his forearms, black leather gloves on his hands, boots with red plates on his shins and feet, and red plates on his shoulders and lower thighs. Duel ebony daggers were strapped to the sides of his thighs, hidden there by their black leather sheaths. Covering the armor was a black leather cloak that reached the ground, hiding his body from view. Hanging over his right shoulder was his black quiver that was full of ebony arrows and his ebony bow to match.

Ichigo tied his hair up into a high ponytail as he walked, trying to pull the length away from the weapons strapped to his back. He had spotted Riverwood, a small village that sits on the eastern side of the White River, into the distance. It was a bit neglected, but it was a nice little community. He had been there a few times before to buy a few daggers and food. He planned on buying a bit of food before he headed down the trails toward Riften.

Ichigo was now on the western side of the White River, making his way down from the Bleak Falls Temple. It was a place that the Nords had built to worship the dragons. It was one of the few places his kind was welcomed by the natives. The people that belonged there were very few, and they were very secretive about the fact that a dragon's den was in the innermost part of the temple.

The place Ichigo actually dwelled in was called the Bleak Falls Sanctum; it was an enormous cavern that Ichigo found many, many years before the temple was built. The Nords discovered it when it was vacant, and it had been a shock for the both of them when Ichigo crawled into the cave. Ichigo was shocked even further when they'd dropped to their knees and _bowed_ to him. But, after laying down in his den and having a discussion with the rather nervous folk, he let them stay. They'd promised to never speak a word about his den or he himself, in exchange for letting them keep their temple—not that he was going to send them away anyways, discovering his den or not—and even allowing them to visit.

Ichigo was not going to leave the new entrance unguarded however, since the temple was going to be public. He asked them to put up doors, explaining to them the safety precautions. They'd understood, knowing about how people treated his kind, and put up the doors as asked. That was not all though; he requested a lock be put on the door and to have them keep the key. For the finished product, a code was the key, so there was no possibility of an actual key being stolen. Ichigo admitted that he was being paranoid; no one ever came that deep into the temple, but he felt safer that way.

Years passed and no one had ever found his den. He was safe, and that was all he needed to know to allow his 'followers' to see him. It was nice to just sit in his den, in his dragon form, and speak with them. In fact, they were still visiting him to this day, and he was grateful for the company.

Ichigo was shaken out of his reverie when he heard the rushing of water. He had reached the White River and on the other side of it sat Riverwood. The forest he had been walking through had faded into tall grasses and bushes as he neared the river banks. The water in front of him was clear and surprisingly shallow. So, he began to stride across the channel after removing his quiver, bow, and cloak. The water came just under his knees, so he had to hold his items a bit higher to keep them dry.

When he reached the other side, he quickly pulled on his cloak before sliding his quiver and bow back over his shoulder. Ichigo shivered for a moment, his feet now cold and damp from wading through the icy water.

He sighed as he continued on, stepping up onto the rickety wooden docks that led into Riverwood. The village was small with only a few businesses and houses. Smoke rose out of some of the houses and the streets were empty. Ichigo looked around the faded wooden buildings until he spotted the Riverwood Trader, the only general goods store in the village.

He opened the door and he caught the pleasant smell of freshly cooked potato soup when he stepped inside. To his left was a set of stairs leading to the second floor and beside it was a table with two chairs. In front of him was a burning fireplace with a pot hanging above the flames. On his right was a counter with various items on top of it and a few shelves behind it containing more goods.

One man sat at the table, eating his soup quietly. He was a sturdy man with short gray hair and a beard, wearing a simple brown robe with fur shoes. His name was Argis Valerius.

Ichigo cleared his throat, making the man jump. "Hey, brat! Don't just be poppin' outta nowhere!" Argis cried out.

"Sorry for interrupting your breakfast, Old Man, but I need a bit of food." Ichigo chuckled.

Argis grumbled under his breath, standing from his chair and walking over behind the counter. "Gettin' a head start, eh, Ichigo? Where ya goin'?"

"Riften."

"Riften? Gods, no wonderin' why you're here'sa early," Argis said as he turned to look at Ichigo's dark form. "What'cha want?" he asked, gesturing towards the food on the shelves.

"Just a few apples," Ichigo answered.

"Tha's all?" the man responded as he went over to the shelves to grab a couple.

"Yeah, I don't need much. I was planning on hunting." Ichigo gestured towards his bow slung over his shoulder before he pulled out his money, placing it on the counter.

"I still don't know how'ya paid fer that!" Argis grumped as he took his money, grumbling under his breath about 'mysterious travelers' and 'expensive weapons.'

"I have my ways." Ichigo said with a smirk. "I'll be off."

"Safe travels, brat!" the man called as Ichigo closed the shop door behind him.

Ichigo shook his head with smirk. '_Argis is something else_,' he thought.

Ichigo tucked the apples away in a small pouch inside his cloak while keeping one for himself. He bit into the fruit as he walked, savoring the food since he hadn't eaten in a day.

More people were out and about now; a burly man was just lighting his forge, three laughing children ran past him, and two women were chatting over by the docks.

Ichigo took another bite of his apple as he left through the southern gate, following the worn trail that led him far from Riverwood.

Most travelers always had something to complain about. Whether it be bandits, wolves, or the occasional frost troll. Ichigo had heard it all in the many taverns he'd frequented. Even traveling swordsmen regaled fabricated stories of how they vanquished a mighty frost troll or a ferocious saber cat, or how they took down a whole group of bandits single-handedly.

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the memories, throwing his apple core into some bushes alongside the path. '_Most of those men could hardly defeat a wolf_,' he thought.

However, Ichigo's travels were entirely uneventful. Perhaps, it was his scent. To the creatures of the wilderness, he could smell like a dragon. Dragons were at the top of the food chain, rightfully so, so he supposed it was no surprise when wolves turned and ran when they caught his scent or all Ichigo had to do was growl at a frost troll for it to retreat. Actually, most creatures that were said to be hostile were incredibly submissive in his presence.

Bandits, though, were a completely different story. Their human nature got rid of their instincts, so they had no idea who they were dealing with. Although, Khajiits and Argonians—the cat-people that hail from the southern deserts of Elsweyr and the lizard-people that come from the southeastern swamps of Black Marsh—retreat after realizing who he was through scent. The beastfolk of Skyrim were not stupid. They were not just animals in appearance. They had the instinct; they knew not to engage a dragon, even in their human form.

Men and mer, however, were blind in that aspect it seemed. It was disappointing, really, when bandits—who would be intimidating to any other traveler—charged at him and he did not even have to pull out his daggers to defeat them. Ichigo had left many battered men laying crumpled in the middle of the trails for others to find. He had even looted their money and food from them sometimes, taking their spoils for himself.

Ichigo paused in his steps for a moment, picking up a lot of different scents that were coming downwind from him, and they were not far. He sighed; it was the smell of a group of humans. He must have been so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice them until now. But, he just continued on his way, not worried in the slightest.

It seemed they were closer than he thought. It had only been a few minutes and when he turned a corner, he spotted the group. In the distance, he could count three men. They were standing off the trail, in the trees, probably waiting for the next unfortunate traveler. Ichigo cursed under his breath, utterly irritated. He did not have time to be dealing with these egotistical pests!

He marched on confidently, though his eyes were ablaze with annoyance. Ichigo tried to school his features into indifference, and surprisingly, he managed it as he got closer to the bandit's hiding place. Judging by the sudden hush in the trees, they had just noticed him coming.

Ichigo's eyes were facing forward, though he was aware of the men as he passed by. His gait was lazy, as if he did not even notice that he was about to get ambushed. Apparently it fooled them, because the moment he was past them, he heard quick footsteps right behind him.

Ichigo ducked and a thick iron mace swung over his crouched form. He spun around before jumping up and smashing the heel of his palm into the bandit's chin, sending him sprawling into the dirt. In a matter of seconds, the man was groaning on the ground, trying to pick himself up.

Another one charged, wielding a steel sword. He slashed at Ichigo, but Ichigo twisted out of the way.

"You'll be so much easier to rob when you're dead!" the bandit growled.

"Do not underestimate me!" Ichigo snapped as he dodged another swing of the sword.

The man swung again, but Ichigo caught his wrist, halting the blade just above his face. Ichigo gripped the bandit's wrist tightly and used it as leverage as he kicked the man harshly in the knee. With a sickening crack, it was dislocated and the man cried out, dropping onto his good knee. Ichigo wasn't done though, as he reeled back and punched the bandit on the temple, knocking him sharply to the side and onto the ground.

Ichigo barely had time to jump to the side as the mace swung down on him again. The man was pissed, if the contorted, red face was anything to go by. It seems as though this one was not incapacitated after all.

"I won't be made a fool of!" the bandit roared, launching a flurry of attacks, swinging the mace around wildly.

Ichigo was swift, dodging and swerving, but he was getting impatient. He wanted to end this.

The man swung back the mace once more. "Die already so we can take your stuff!" he snarled.

Ichigo darted forward, too fast for the man to react. Ichigo sunk his fist into the man's solar plexus, satisfied by the loud grunt he got in response.

The man hunched over, coughing and spitting, his arms curling over his gut. "Y-You bastard…" he gasped, glaring at Ichigo before said man kicked him in the jaw, silencing him.

"Two men down," Ichigo muttered, eyeing the two limp men on the ground. "Now, where is the third…?"

Ichigo looked around, spotting the man running away.

"Damn coward!" Ichigo cursed, quickly pulling his bow from his back. He nocked an arrow, pulling the string back. He took a breath and aimed at his moving target.

He let the arrow fly, smirking when sunk into the man's back. The man's hide armor could not protect him from his arrows. His smirk widened when he could hear the snapping of the man's spine in the distance before the coward screamed. He collapsed onto the ground, writhing in agony, before he quieted.

'_Must have passed out from the pain,_' Ichigo thought as he hung his bow back over his shoulder. He went about looking through the unconscious men's hauls, counting every coin that he found. They'd had quite a bit of money that Ichigo tucked away into his cloak as he walked over to the man he had shot. He pulled the arrow out of the flesh and tucked it back into the quiver after flicking off the blood that dripped off of it.

Ichigo hummed a random tune as he turned back towards the path, leaving the ruined men where they were.

'_Well, at least there were some benefits of being attacked_,' Ichigo smirked as he heard the clinking of the coins in his cloak.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: And there's the second chapter! :D**

**Oh, and let me just say this now: some of the lore of Skyrim will be changed to fit my story, so don't freak out if you see some things that are different. I'm trying to stick to the real lore as much as possible, but some things have to be changed for it to work.**

**- Shiro -**


	3. Declaration of War

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

Ichigo crouched silently under a tall tree, his form tense.

He nocked an arrow, pulling the string back from his bow.

He took aim, focusing only on his target a few meters away, holding his breath.

With an exhale, he let the arrow fly, and it sunk into the back of the rabbit's neck.

"Yes!" he cheered. The little irritant had been hard to track.

Ichigo stood from his crouch, coming out of his hiding place in the bushes under the tree. He slung his bow back over his shoulder, walking over to his catch. He picked the animal up by its throat, pulling out the arrow that had went through its neck. He flicked off the blood before returning it to the quiver.

Ichigo hung the dead rabbit over his other shoulder before he went about gathering a bunch of twigs and sticks. He set them down and sat down beside them, taking a deep breath and he exhaled, small flames flickering out of his mouth and catching the wood on fire. The light illuminated his surroundings.

Satisfied, Ichigo pulled the rabbit off his shoulder and placed it in his lap. He unsheathed one of his daggers and he began to skin the animal.

Ichigo was not far from Riften now. After the incident with the bandits, his trip was unexciting. But, Ichigo had been hungry, and not for apples, so he had went hunting. He'd spotted the rabbit not far from the trails, but it had darted away before he could even pull out his bow. He'd had to track the damn thing by smell, so he'd wandered farther away from the trails than he wanted.

Ichigo looked around as he pulled the skin off the rabbit's back. It was nearly dusk and he was surrounded by dense forests, but he could smell moist air in the east, so he knew he was close to Lake Honrich with Riften sitting on its eastern shore.

He pulled the last of the skin off the animal, tossing it to the side. He cut the legs off the body before throwing the carcass away; the legs were the only valuable part of the rabbit. He let the legs bleed out for a minute until he grabbed it by the bone and cooked it over the fire.

When it was done, he quickly tore into the meat. It was gone in no time, with Ichigo tossing the clean bone away. He cooked the other leg and ate it too, tossing the bone to the side just like the last.

Ichigo sighed in contentment with his full stomach, now wanting a nap. But, he stood up anyways and stamped out his fire, scattering the ashes everywhere so there was no remnants of his presence. With his light source gone, it was rather hard to navigate through the trees even with his night vision, so he took a glove off his hand and tucked it away. He focused his magicka and flames flickered to life in his hand, illuminating his surroundings.

Ichigo looked around again, sniffing the air to get his bearings. Nodding to himself, he started walking in the direction of the lake.

It surprised him how long it took for him to reach the trail. '_Ok, how far did I go, exactly?_' he wondered as he glanced back at the forests.

He could see Lake Honrich now, but with the fog hanging over the eastern shore, he could not see Riften's Dryside—the eastern side of the city that was built on the shore. He could only see the light of lanterns through the haze, so he stopped his spell and followed them.

When Ichigo arrived to Riften's south gate, he was stopped by a guard standing by the doors.

"You have to pay the visitor's tax," the guard stated, looking at him expectantly.

"_Huh?_ Since when does Riften charge a _visitor's tax?_" Ichigo questioned, suspicious.

"Don't ask questions, traveler. Just hand over three hundred septims and you'll be on your way," the guard snapped, looking irritated.

"_Three hundred? _Just to get in?" Ichigo asked disbelievingly. "This is obviously a shake-down," he growled, glaring at the guard.

"…Fine. You can go in. Just keep it quiet," the man said in a more hushed voice, but he still looked aggravated that he was stood up to.

"Divines bless you," Ichigo said sardonically with a roll of his eyes as he passed the guard, enjoying the angry grumbles of the man that trailed him as the door closed behind him.

He noticed that the city was silent as he entered. Only a few people were wandering about here and there aside from the guards on patrol.

On his left, sat the Honorhall Orphanage; its lights were out, so he supposed he could not wake up the children no matter how much he wanted to see them. To his right sat the Mistveil Keep, where the Jarl, Hosgunn Crossed-Daggers, lives and rules.

Continuing on, he turned and entered the empty Marketplace, the center of Riften where people come and shop. He crossed it, heading towards The Bee and Barb, one of the inns in Riften. It was dark now, and he did not think that Ryuken would appreciate it if he came at this hour, so he was going to stay at an inn. Plus, he did not want to deal with Ryuken and his thieves any sooner than he had to.

The smell of Nord Mead hit him like a punch to the face when he stepped inside The Bee and Barb. He tried not to scrunch his sensitive nose, but it was futile; the mead smelled awful. All the other races in Skyrim thought that the mead was disgusting, and he was one of them, but the Nords loved it.

Whenever he decided to sleep here, he often wondered what made him come here in the first place. Even sleeping in the _Ratway_ sounded more appealing than being here. That was saying something.

"Ichigo!"

Ichigo turned around, and he had no time to react when he was embraced into a crushing hug, the shameless woman rubbing her body on his. He was suddenly reminded why he came here.

"Get off of me, Yoruichi!" he snapped, placing his hand firmly on the woman's face and pushing her off with ease.

"Awww, Ichigo! Don't be like that!" the woman, Yoruichi Shihōin, whined as she swatted at Ichigo, but she could not reach him with his hand on her face. The customers looking on laughed at their antics; it was not every day that the feisty Yoruichi acted like a child.

Yoruichi barely reached Ichigo's shoulders with her height, but her body was curvy and voluptuous in her deep blue, long-sleeved dress that went to the floor and hung off her shoulders. A slit in the side of the skirt went all the way up to her thigh, revealing her smooth leg as she walked, but he saw the dagger strapped to her thigh. The woman had dark skin, darker than his, with amber eyes and dark purple hair that was tied into a high ponytail.

Yoruichi was someone he considered to be family. She had raised him when he was still a youngling, long ago before he took his place as the alpha in the dragon clan. She used to be like a mother figure, but that had long since passed. But, he made it a point to visit them in their little place in Riften. Yoruichi had raised him when she did not have to and even had taught him everything she knew. He was grateful.

"I did not come to catch up, damn woman. I have business here," he said, sighing.

"Business? What for? Ryuken?" she asked, whispering Ryuken's name so no one would get suspicious. He nodded in reply.

"He's been quiet these past few weeks," Yoruichi said after she pulled him to the corner of the bar where no one was nearby.

"What do you mean?" Ichigo asked. He was puzzled. Ryuken was the notorious Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild in Riften, so he was constantly sending out his thieves.

"The members of the guild seemed to have disappeared. There hasn't been any talk of a thievery in a while," she explained, taking a sideways glance at him.

"I have never known him to do that. He has his spy network, though, and he uses his members as scouts. Maybe they are all out to different places," he mentioned.

"That's possible, but wouldn't it be really risking it to leave The Ratway unguarded? How arrogant can that man be?"

"He knows what he is doing. He has been doing it for years," he said. Noticing her questioning look, he continued, "Most of the time, there is only two or three thieves actually in Riften. Most of them are in other places gathering information, and stealing, too," he explained.

"Really?" she exclaimed. "The way he threatens us, it sounds like there's an army down there."

"It is a farce. It is a way to keep people away from his base. You would not want to go into territory you did not know, not knowing how many you are fighting, would you?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Exactly. That is why none of the guards dare to go down there, when there is so few of them," he remarked, looking around for the first time since he got here.

The space was big, as expected of a tavern. There was a few tables sitting around the space, with a patrons sitting around them. Workers flitted about to prepare the customers' orders, but even with the smell of food cooking, the smell of the mead was still thick in the air. He was sitting at the far end of the bar with Yoruichi leaning on the other side. Cups and some foods sat on the countertop, while some other customers sat at the bar farther away from them with their cups in their hands.

As expected, the place was the same as the last time he saw it.

"When are you going to let Kisuke redecorate the place?" he chuckled, looking back to Yoruichi.

Her face scrunched up in annoyance. "That man would color this place pink if I let him decorate," she said, exasperated. "It would be a _disaster!_" she cried out, waving her arms frantically.

Kisuke Urahara is a…_ eccentric_ man, to put it lightly. _Very _lightly. He and Yoruichi were perfect for each other, really, because they were both with extreme personalities. It was a wonder how he turned out so well after being raised by these two.

"Come _on_, give your poor mate a break. At least let him build that fire pit he has been talking about. It might just warm this place up some," he said, a grin on his face. '_Or get rid of the mead smell,_'he thought with an internal grimace.

Before Yoruichi could open her mouth, she was interrupted.

"Yoruichi, my dear~!" a voice chirped from the entrance of the inn.

A tall man, though not as tall as Ichigo, approached. He was wearing a dark green tunic with matching trousers. He wore a black jacket over it that reached the back of his knees in length, and its sleeves came just below the elbow. The open jacket flowed behind him as he walked over. He had short, messy blonde hair that hung in his face and brown eyes. It was Kisuke.

"Ah, Ichigo!" he exclaimed as he noticed the orange-haired man speaking with his mate. "How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Not that long," Ichigo answered, gaining a mischievous glint in his eye that Kisuke did not miss. "We were just talking about you," he said with a smirk.

"Oh? What about~?" Kisuke asked, glancing at Yoruichi who was quite possibly trying to drill holes into Ichigo's head with her glare.

"Yoruichi just said that you could build your fire pit," he said, a grin spreading across his face. Yoruichi was looking positively livid now, shaking in her fury. A few customers nearby quickly left, afraid for their safety. Ichigo, however, looked unaffected.

Kisuke gasped. "Really?!" he yelled. "Oh, by the gods, I need to start right away! I need to figure out where I'm going to put it! I need to clear away the spot! I need the supplies – right! The supplies! I'll need some tools, brick – "

Ichigo was laughing too hard to even hear the rest of Kisuke's rambling. The man was darting about the inn now, nearly knocking people down in his excitement.

"DAMN YOU, ICHIGO!"

Ichigo ducked at Yoruichi's roar of rage, still cackling rather loudly and people were starting to stare. Yoruichi sailed over him as she lunged over the counter, but she came right back, lunging for his neck to probably strangle him.

"You know how he gets when he's like that! He'll be in his own little world until it's finished!" she snarled, baring her fangs.

He was breathing hard now, wiping away tears that were about to fall. "I know, but when it is finished, he will not bother you about it anymore, will he?" he said with a wide grin.

"NO! He'll bother me about more and more things now!" she whined, flailing her arms about.

Ichigo barked a laugh. "I know, isn't it great?"

Yoruichi lunged at him again, but he skillfully dodged, chuckling all the while. "Goodnight Yoruichi~" he said as he walked away from the bar, Yoruichi's curses following him.

He crossed the room, heading over to the stairs, aware of eyes on him. After all, they had raised quite a commotion in the rather laidback inn. It tends to happen often when you have to deal with a lot like Yoruichi and Kisuke that have more than a few screws loose.

Ichigo climbed the stairs, the steps squeaking under his feet. He reached the landing, and went to his room. The second floor was an open space like the first, but there were four doors along the walls. He went to the one right to the left, letting himself in after he unlocked it. Yoruichi had given him the room for him to stay in, free of charge, when she opened the tavern.

He lit a lantern that was hanging above the door, its flame lighting the room. The room was not too small, with a bed on the far wall and a table and chair to his left. His table was piled with books that he had collected as the years went by, since he did not trust them to not get ruined in his den. He had a variety of literature. He had collected spell tomes of Alteration, Conjuration, Destruction, Illusion, and Restoration. He had books of stories that men, mer, and beastfolk alike had written. He had books of each and every religion. He even had written his own books for himself, full of the _Dovahzul _and the _Thu'um_. Ichigo had to be informed and trained to be able to protect what is his.

Ichigo pulled off his bow and quiver, sitting them down beside the table. He pulled off his cloak, throwing the piece over the chair. He rolled his shoulders, satisfied when he heard them crack. The weight of his weapons and cloak combined were rather heavy, and he'd had them on for the whole day's trip to Riften. Now, he was just in his body-hugging armor.

He pulled his hair out of its ponytail and he laid down on the bed, feeling tired. The day had taken a lot out of him. He had not had to travel by foot for a long time.

Tomorrow, he would see Ryuken. The both of them were not exactly the best of friends, but Ichigo promised to protect Ryuken and his Guild in exchange for information. They were allies, he supposed. Ryuken would gather information for Ichigo, and Ichigo would lead authorities away from the Ratway, or his thieves. Ichigo had also sniffed out a leak in the Guild that Ryuken was not even aware of a few times before, and had them eliminated.

Ichigo was reluctant to go down into the Ratway, though. It smelled like decaying corpses down there. Ryuken's thugs were not exactly pleasant, either. They always made suggestive comments and leered at him when he visited, and he'd broken a few of their bones for it. Was it so hard to act like you have some tact? He was disappointed that Ryuken allowed his lackeys to behave that way around him. But, he assumed that Ryuken knew he'd break the person who dared to touch him, and he was not wrong.

Yawning, he rolled over and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts slip away, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

**xXxXx**

When Ichigo stirred, it was daylight outside, possibly midmorning. He groaned as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes that refused to open. He yawned widely, stretching his arms over his head. His orange hair flowed over the bed, covering it in silky orange tresses. He sat in his comfy bed for a moment to wake himself up, before he stood.

His room was dark since there were not any windows, and the lantern he had lit last night had long burned out. But with his night vision, he was able to walk over to the door and open it, but he was momentarily blinded with the bright light that invaded his room. He went back inside his room, foregoing his cloak, and slung his bow and quiver back over his shoulder before he walked back to the door. He pulled the door closed behind him and locked it, strolling lazily down the stairs to steal some breakfast from Yoruichi.

The tavern was calmer than it is at night, with people sitting at the tables enjoying their morning meals. Yoruichi was standing behind the bar with a plate of something in front of her with a book beside it, eating while she was reading. Kisuke—Ichigo had to choke down a laugh—was sitting in a square-sized hole in the floorboards, working on the fire pit. The man did not even spare Ichigo a glance as he walked by him.

Ichigo crept over to the unsuspecting Yoruichi, examining her plate. A few apple dumplings dripping with honey sat there, with a cup of wine next to it. He snatched two dumplings, skittering away just in time for Yoruichi to swing at him.

"_Ichigo! _Those were mine!" she whined, looking like a petulant child.

Ichigo chuckled, taking a bite out of the soft crust, making exaggerated moans of delight. He nearly choked on the food at Yoruichi's horrified face, but he only grinned at her after he swallowed the delectable treat. The woman may be a bit nuts, but she could cook, and her dumplings were one of the best things.

"Hey!" she cried indignantly.

"Your dumplings are the _best_," he moaned, taking another bite of it as he made his way towards the door.

"You better get back he –"

Her rampage was cut off as the door was quickly shut behind him, and he could hear loud, angry grumbles behind it. He snickered to himself as he walked down the planks that were built above the murky water.

He took another bite of the dumpling, finishing it and licking the honey off his leather-clad fingers. He bit into the second one as he entered the Marketplace. The shops were set up now, with their vendors behind them and a few customers looking around. Some of them stopped to stare at his oddly colored hair, but he hardly noticed.

He passed them quickly, and crossed a bridge. He took a right, and in front of him were the Honorhall Orphanage's doors. He was disappointed he could not see the little ones until later that day, but he had urgent business to attend to, so he took another right.

Ichigo walked down the wooden stairs that dropped below Riften. He popped the last of the food into his mouth as he strode across another bridge and headed over to a door that was on the other side.

He opened the door and he stepped inside. He focused his magicka and his eyes glowed with an unnerving golden hue, accentuating his slit pupils. He could see now, the room lit up as if the sun was shining in it.

He scowled as soon as he took in the smell. '_It smells like decaying corpses, indeed,_' he thought.

He opened the second door in front of him, and entered the Ratway. Ichigo strolled through the tunnels, but he did not make it far. A sentry was just down this tunnel and he saw him. The man growled and charged, swinging his steel sword.

Ichigo was not in the mood to deal with this. When the sword came down, aimed to slash his chest, he grabbed the sentry's wrist and in a quick motion, had the arm twisted behind the man's back. The sword clattered to the ground as he slammed the man against the stone walls, tightening his grip. He did not feel an ounce of guilt when he heard the watchman's shoulder crackle, and watched the bones underneath the skin move to awkward positions.

The man groaned in pain, his face smashed against the stone. The man tried to look back at Ichigo, but he could not see much due to the dark lighting. If there was one thing he did recognize though, was the orange hair spilling over Ichigo's shoulders.

"Oh, it's you, eh?" the man tried to sound confident, but this only rewarded him in his hold being tightened and his shoulder further being dislocated. The sentry cried out, trying to struggle and get free, but it was pointless; it only caused him more pain.

"You are going to take me to the Guildmaster, or I am going to rip your arm out of socket," Ichigo hissed in the guard's ear.

"What makes you think I'd do t-that?" the watchman snapped, not wanting to yield to this man, but his wavering voice betrayed him.

"Suit yourself," Ichigo growled, reaching up with his other hand to grasp at the man's shoulder.

"W-Wait! Victory is yours! I submit!" the sentry yelped.

Ichigo let the man out of the hold immediately, but watched unremorsefully as the guard stood there for a moment to pull his arm out of the unnatural position behind him. When he did, the watchman popped his arm back into place with a quiet groan.

The man turned to glare at Ichigo while cradling his arm, but he only looked back with an icy stare.

"Who're you?" the man asked, eyeing Ichigo, looking up and down his form.

"Ichigo. I am the only client of Ryuken's." he answered, watching the man carefully as he picked up his sword and sheathed it.

"The name's Markus," the man, Markus, answered. "And did you say _client? _Since when does he – oh. You're _that _client, aren't you? The mysterious one that helps the Guild?"

"It does not matter. Take me to the Guildmaster, will you?" Ichigo said sharply. He was getting annoyed.

Markus looked reluctant to stop his questioning, but he nodded anyways. He began down the tunnels, with Ichigo following. They were walking in silence for a while, until Markus broke it.

"So, how long have you been doing business for Ryuken?" he asked.

"I think it has been for maybe… seven or eight years?" Ichigo answered thoughtfully.

"Really? That's a long time," Markus commented.

"I am older than I look," Ichigo smirked, glancing at the man walking beside him.

Ichigo got his first good look at the man since he saw him. Markus had dark, shoulder-length hair, with some facial hair on his chin. He was about the same height as Ichigo and he was wearing the typical Thieves Guild armor.

'_Just an average Nord man,_' Ichigo thought absently.

"Aye, Markus!"

Markus turned around to greet the person, but Ichigo did not. He did not want to interact with anyone else down here.

"What're ya doin'? Whose tha'? Don' just be bringin' ya whores down here!"

"Ah, th-this is the _client_ everyone wants to know about," Markus answered hesitantly, glancing at Ichigo's rigid back.

"Oh! Tha's tha client? He's a quite'a looker," the man said, leering at Ichigo's backside. Markus gave him a look that said, 'Back off, or you'll regret it,' but he was ignored.

"What did'ja find out 'bout him?" the man asked, looking back to Markus.

"That is none of your concern," Ichigo interjected. "Markus," he addressed abruptly.

"Y-Yes?"

"Let's go," Ichigo said, his voice promising terrible things if his command was ignored.

"He's a prickly one, ain't he? Tha's fine though, I like 'em feisty," the man commented, walking up behind Ichigo despite Markus's warning look.

"You like _what_ feisty, exactly?" Ichigo looked over his shoulder to fix the man with his iciest glare. But, oblivious as the man was, he did not even notice. His eyes were on Ichigo's body.

"Aw, c'mon babe, don' be like tha'," the man reached forward to touch Ichigo's back. "I'll show ya a good ti – "

He was cut off when he let out a strangled yelp.

Ichigo had whipped around and in a second, his dagger's blade was against the man's throat, already slicing through the skin. A few drops of blood trickled down the man's neck.

"W-What're ya doin'?! Ya c-crazy bitch!" the man yelled out, but he was frozen stiff.

"If you even _try _to touch me again, I will break every bone in your body," Ichigo hissed, his eyes glowing and his sclera bleeding black in his fury.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't terrorize my guild members, Ichigo," a deep voice cut in from down another tunnel.

Ichigo swiftly put his dagger away, and the man slumped forward with a relieved sigh.

"I would not have to if you would teach them some _manners_, Ryuken," Ichigo growled, turning around to see said man.

He was standing in the doorway of The Ragged Flagon, with an amused look on his face. "I don't have to, really, with you here to keep them straight," he commented.

"I should not _have _to keep them straight," Ichigo grumbled, walking over to Ryuken.

He was taller than Ichigo, standing a couple of inches above him. He was wearing the set of Guildmaster's armor. It is a black light armor, with shoulder guards and straps crossing the chest, boots with buckles on the sides, and gloves with the bracers on his forearms. He was not wearing the hood, leaving his face the only body part visible. He had short, white hair that parted in the middle and hung on either side of his face, with deep blue eyes.

"Anyway," Ryuken said with a serious expression, "I think I have some information that you would be interested in."

"That is what I came here for," Ichigo mentioned, glancing into The Ragged Flagon.

"Then we'll talk," Ryuken answered, before turning to the two men standing behind them. "Markus, thank you for bringing Ichigo here. Though I don't think it was willingly…" he said and he eyed the arm Markus was cradling. "And you," he said, addressing the man who was holding his throat. "If you mess with my client again, I won't feel sorry for you when I find you somewhere with your throat cut, understood?" The man nodded slowly in response, his eyes wide.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "If he has a brain in that head of his, he will stay away."

Ryuken chuckled as he led the way into the tavern. "Don't overestimate him."

The Ragged Flagon was shaped like a dome, with a circular shallow pool of water sitting in the middle of it. They followed the right stone path around it, and entered the inn. Ichigo stopped his flow of magicka and his eyesight dimmed, his eyes losing their ethereal glow, and he blinked to adjust to the new lighting. The inn was rather small and dark, even with the few torches lining the walls. There were a few tables sitting around, looking a bit worn. A counter sat in the center against the wall, with a man behind it. He was the only other person in sight.

Ryuken led Ichigo to a table away from the counter. Ichigo sat down, feeling the wooden chair groan under his weight. Ryuken sat down across from him in another rickety chair, and he waved his hand to the man behind the counter. The man briskly walked over, looking like a soldier at attention when he stopped beside the table. Ichigo had to smother a laugh.

The man was nothing special in his ordinary tunic and fur shoes, with sandy hair and brown eyes. His name is Vekel the Man, the owner of The Ragged Flagon.

"Bring us some mead and wine," Ryuken said, smirking at Vekel. The man nodded and gave Ichigo a cold stare that Ichigo returned, smirking. Vekel scowled as he reddened, and again walked briskly back to the counter to do as asked.

"Vekel is as cold as ever, I see," Ichigo chuckled, turning back to Ryuken.

"Don't take it personally, but I don't think he trusts you," Ryuken smirked.

"You wound me," Ichigo quipped.

At that moment, Vekel chose to arrive with their drinks. A cup was set down in front of both of them, and without a word, Vekel strode away after giving another withering look towards Ichigo.

"No, it is definitely not trust issues. I think he simply does not like me," Ichigo stated matter-of-factly.

"He doesn't like anyone, really."

"What a _relief_," Ichigo deadpanned, giving Ryuken a look.

Ichigo took a sip of his wine as the Guildmaster chuckled. "Anyways," Ryuken started.

"Where do we begin?" Ichigo asked.

"What do you want to know?"

"Hm… Well, recently, something happened in Windhelm, and I need to know why," Ichigo said, his easygoing attitude replaced with a serious expression.

Ryuken's expression turned thoughtful. "Windhelm…" he murmured, "The soldiers there attacked the dragons flying over, did they not?"

"So I have heard," Ichigo looked away.

"And they killed one of them," the Guildmaster continued, not a question, but as a statement. Ichigo nodded, keeping his eyes on the floors.

"We know nothing about those beasts, so we're afraid of them, I suppose. The military decided to take care of the problem themselves. Narrow-minded men, I tell you. They think violence is going to make things better… Anyways, the tension has been rising for a while. It began when Kugo Ginjo took the position as Jarl. He quietly manipulated the people into believing that dragons were out to get us. He's been sending more guards to every settlement, I'm sure you've noticed."

"They are getting more difficult to get into. When I tried to get through the gate yesterday, the guard there told me I had to pay a visitor's tax," Ichigo scoffed.

"That's not all. I assume it escaped your notice, but the Imperial army has slowly gotten larger. It has swelled to countless numbers now, plenty enough to wage a war."

"How could I have not noticed…?" Ichigo mumbled, but Ryuken heard him anyway.

"Ever since Kugo took office, he began to recruit new soldiers. He didn't give them a uniform and made them swear to never speak of their association with the army. It took me a long time to notice, and I have eyes and ears everywhere."

"What does Kugo have against the dragons?" Ichigo inquired.

"That's a good question… I would tell you, if I knew," Ryuken sighed. "I even had a spy infiltrate the Blue Palace to observe Kugo. He found out absolutely nothing. Kugo is sharp, I'll give him that, because he must have known he was being watched."

Ichigo watched Ryuken carefully. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Unfortunately…?"

"Another spy that went to Solitude went to the inn and different shops, asking about rumors going around. He had been at The Winking Skeever when he eavesdropped on a couple soldiers talking about Kugo's plan to eradicate the dragons. As clever as I think Kugo is, he overestimates his soldiers."

Ichigo's eyes glowed with rage now, but his scorching eyes were hidden beneath his bangs.

"Ichigo…?" Ryuken called hesitantly.

"Is that all?" Ichigo asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Y-Yes, but – "

Without another word, Ichigo stood, and walked out of the inn.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: Finally, I got this chapter finished... It felt like it took forever...**

**I know I said this is an IchiFemGrimm story, but she won't be introduced until a chapter or two. I'm really just writing my story as I go along, so even I don't know what I'm putting in the next chapter...**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**- Shiro -**


	4. Extinction

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

When Ichigo finally made it out of the Ratway, he had to force himself not to slaughter the people nearby. He strode quickly up the wooden steps, and when he was finally above ground, he stopped.

"_Joor Slen Mun!_" he growled, transforming in the middle of the city, his giant body nearly crushing the Honorhall Orphanage behind him. He swiftly flared his wings, and with a mighty push, he was sailing up into the skies.

He momentarily noticed shouts and cries below him in the city, but he could not find it in himself to care.

Taking a deep breath, he let out a ferocious roar, the vicious screech echoing far across the lands. He was calling to his brethren all around Skyrim, knowing they would respond to his call.

The first ones there were Yoruichi and Kisuke, Yoruichi's slender, dark purple form falling in beside him and Kisuke's bigger brown one was behind her.

"Ichigo?" Yoruichi called, worry in her voice.

"Not now," was his sharp response.

Renji arrived next, flanking Ichigo's other side. His mate, Rukia, followed behind him with her tiny black form.

"What's going on?" Renji asked, glancing at Ichigo.

"I am calling for a gathering. We will head to the Throat of the World."

The Throat of the World was the highest mountain in Tamriel, and was so cold that the snow never melted on its peak, so humans did not venture here often, even with the Seven Thousand Steps that led to it. They approached the peak of it quickly, swooping down to land on the top.

Ichigo landed on the rocky peak, tucking his wings to his back. The others perched down below on the mountain's plateau. Minutes passed and more and more dragons were landing on the mountain, until the small clan were all gathered in complete silence.

"I am going to cut to the chase," Ichigo began, his expression absolutely serious. "The Imperial Army has declared war," he stated, his voice booming over them.

"Why would a mortal war concern us?" Rukia cut in, her voice silencing the murmurs that had erupted.

"It is because of _who _they want to war with. Kugo Ginjo wants to war with _us,_" Ichigo answered solemnly.

A few moments of stunned silence passed, everyone staring with rapt attention towards their Alpha.

"I intend to give him what he wants," Ichigo continued.

"Ichigo – !" Yoruichi gasped, but Ichigo silenced her with a heated look.

"You may have sensed it, or you may have not, but they attacked one of our own in Windhelm a few days ago. Renji was lucky to have made it out alive, but Kira… was not so lucky," Ichigo said, his eyes glowing with anger, but otherwise he appeared calm.

Gasps were heard along with growls, but Ichigo continued. "I want to avenge Kira. He was family to me, as he was to you. If the Imperials want a war, we will give them a war."

Battle cries took over then, echoing down the Throat of the World and beyond.

"We are going to Solitude, and we will bathe in Imperial blood!" Ichigo thundered before he unfurled his wings and darted to the northwest. Screeches and roars echoed through the skies. The harbingers of death were coming with a vengeance.

The trip to Solitude was a short one, with adrenaline pumping through their veins and bloodlust clouding their vision.

Ichigo tucked his wings and he shot downwards like a bullet. Just as he neared the city, he spread his wings once more and he slowed, landing on the Emperor's Tower, a wing of Castle Dour. It was flat on the top, allowing him to easily stand on the tall building. It was in the center of Solitude; all those inside the walls could see him. Some of the others followed his lead, diving down to land on the buildings and thick walls nearby. The others, however, were circling the skies above the city.

The civilians were standing in the streets now, gawking at their powerful forms. For a second, Ichigo had the thought, '_We are just confirming their fears of us._' He shook the thought away quickly. Now was not the time to be having second thoughts.

The Imperials were gathering now, most wearing the Legion's typical light armor. The whole set was made of brown leather and it included a helmet, the cuirass, bracers, and boots. Most were wielding an Imperial steel sword and light shield, or an Imperial bow.

Many of the soldiers were out in the streets now too, and they did not look surprised, only a bit apprehensive. Well, it was not like they were aiming for a sneak attack. The entire province probably knew that they were here in Solitude.

"Dragons?!"

"Why are they here?!"

"They'll kill us all!"

"Run! Run!"

Chaos was erupting in the usually quiet city. The civilians were scrambling to the closest gate or into nearby buildings and houses. The soldiers were moving in with their weapons raised, shouting curses and battle plans.

Ichigo was aware of his clan's eyes on him now. He knew they were waiting for his signal. He raised his head and let out a battle cry to the heavens, the blood-curdling roar sending chills down their enemies' spines.

Renji was the first to jump into action. He leapt off the building he was standing on, flying low and with a quick sweep of his head, he snatched a soldier in his jaws. He swung and threw the man, the body flying into the wall of a nearby building. The man bounced off the barrier from the impact, dropping to the ground, limp.

The dragons roared and screeched with their triumph. The first of many Imperials had fallen.

With that, the long battle began.

Renji was remaining grounded. He stood at an intimidating height to the mortals that charged him in close range. He was focusing on taking out all of the archers while he darted around the open area trying to avoid the swordsmen. They were persistent, slashing at any of him when they managed to get in range.

This was not a one-sided fight, however. He was slamming his thick tail into men who came up from behind, smashing their bones into splinters. He used his wings to defend his sides, smacking the powerful appendages into them and sending them flying. Renji used his teeth to tear the soldiers into shreds. One of the soldiers who got too close to his jaws was currently lying on their front, with the bottom half of their body missing.

Renji darted away from his attackers once again and climbed to the top of the Hall of the Dead. As expected, they were running right after him. He inhaled.

_Inhale air, exhale flame, and behold the Thu'um as an inferno._

"_Yol Toor Shul!_" he bellowed, a wave of scorching flames engulfing many of the soldiers. They fell in crumpled heaps. Their skin was an angry red and were severely blistered. They were unrecognizable, he noticed. They only let out harsh, garbled squawks for a moment, thrashing in the dirt in complete agony, before they quieted, their forms appearing boneless.

Yoruichi's slim, dark purple form was hovering a few meters off the ground behind the Hall of the Dead, moving at a steady pace as she snatched soldiers left and right. She dipped down again and grasped one by their head, swinging her head back up. The decapitated body soared backwards, crashing into another man and sent him sprawling to the ground with a loud thud. She spat the disembodied head elsewhere, continuing on and grabbing another while trying to avoid arrows that came in her direction.

Kisuke was standing on top of the tower of the Thalmor's headquarters, attracting soldiers into the courtyard of Castle Dour. There were fifteen or so heading towards him, most of them carrying a bow. Some were running up the stairs towards the tower and the others were staying in the courtyard to fire arrows from below. Kisuke was easily cornered, and the men thought they had triumphed. But then Kisuke raised his head, his eyes glowing with delight.

_Your voice bends the very stones to your will. As it gains power, animals, people, and even dragons must do your bidding._

"_Gol Hah Dov!_" his voice ripped through the courtyard and bounced off Castle Dour's walls. At first, nothing happened, but then the soldiers lost their defensive stances and stood up completely straight. Their faces showed bewilderment and fright as their bodies moved on their own.

"Commence the battle royal!" Kisuke declared, his eyes glinting as the soldiers unwillingly turned their weapons on their comrades. There was a few seconds of tense silence as the soldiers tried to take control of their bodies once again, but it was useless. The soldiers charged.

Rukia was flying higher above the city with the others who preferred long-range attacks. She was circling the area where the majority of the soldiers were gathered. Archers were trying to reach her up here, but she effortlessly dodged their missiles with her small frame.

Then, she swooped down. She inhaled her breath as she neared a group of soldiers on the ground. She flared her wings to slow herself.

_Your Thu'um freezes an opponent solid._

"_Iiz Slen Nus!_" she cried, an ice wave pouring out of her mouth. When it touched the soldiers in her path, they had no time to cry out as the ice engulfed them. They tipped over, a layer of ice on their frozen forms. Another dragon following behind her smashed their body into them, crushing the bones of the defenseless men.

Meanwhile, Ichigo watched all of this from his perch on the Emperor's Tower. He was confident that his clan would come out victorious. They had to. Mortals were weak, short-lived beings and they were naïve enough to believe that they were at the top of the food chain. He was not biased, he just knew it was the truth. But, there were select few mortals that could defeat them, he realized, and it was the dragon's fault.

Their names were Hakon One-Eye, Felldir the Old, and Gormlaith Golden-Hilt. The trio were great warriors of their time, and Ichigo had wanted to give a gift to the mortals for peace. So, he had taught those three the _Thu'um_. They were eager to learn after getting over their initial shock when he had come to them, and were skilled in a few Shouts after some years of meditation. He had considered them worthy disciples, gave them some of his books on the _Thu'um _and the _Dovahzul_, and had sent them away to train on their own. That had been the last time he saw them, but he knew he had been a fool when he was informed that they had been recruited into the Imperial Legion a few months later. He still cursed himself to this day for his irresponsibility. He also knew that they were here, in Solitude, somewhere, because he felt one of his kin die, and they were the only ones who could do it.

'_I will deal with them later,_' he thought, before he glanced towards the unguarded Blue Palace.

He scanned the area, watching the dragons kill soldier after soldier. He knew, however, that no matter how outmatched the Imperials were, they would still see him and pursue if he flew to the Palace. It _was_ their duty to protect the Jarl at all costs. '_How annoying_.'

He sighed and stood up straight, glancing around him before he began to gather his magicka.

_Shout at time, and command it to obey, as the world around you stands still._

"_Tiid Klo Ul,_" he said, and everything in motion around him gradually slowed, until they stopped, frozen in place. He immediately to flight, flying towards the Palace. The Shout only lasts a few minutes and he had no time to waste.

He examined the ground below as he flew. The dragons were frozen midair, and some of their Shouts were too. He saw a Fire Breath frozen in place right before it reached its target, and a Cyclone with men caught in its grasp.

When he reached the Blue Palace, he transformed back into his mortal form, walking straight through the main entrance. A room with tables sitting on both sides of the path, topped with silver pitchers and plates of foods greeted him, with a doorway across from him greeted him, called the Receiving Hall.

But what caught his attention, was the tense guard next to the doorway that was drawing his sword. He charged, and Ichigo quickly darted out of the way of the jab towards his stomach. The man's movements were surprisingly quick and powerful, and Ichigo had to be more precise with his dodges.

After a few moments of this, Ichigo grasped both of his daggers and blocked the next blow with both of them. Ichigo pushed the man back before lunging, weaving through the man's strikes as if he was dancing. When he went for another, Ichigo blocked it with one dagger and swiftly sank the other into the man's throat. He pulled his blade out and sheathed both of the blades. The man was on the floor now, coughing and choking on his own blood.

Ichigo continued on more stealthily, peering around the open doorway. When he saw no one, he walked through. The room reached all the way to the blue dome at the top, with two spiraling staircases leading to the second floor. He quietly climbed those, stopping before he reached the top so he could examine the room. On a platform, sitting in his throne, was Kugo Ginjo. He had greasy black hair that was slicked back, and had a full set of steel armor on. He was alone.

Ichigo stepped onto the landing, revealing himself. Kugo looked up, appearing startled, but it quickly changed into an annoyed scowl.

"Who are you? Are you one of my soldiers?" he asked, looking at Ichigo as if he were a cockroach.

"Oh, yes, Jarl Kugo," he answered, hiding a nasty smirk as he bowed his head.

"Then why aren't you outside killing those vermin?" the Jarl snapped.

Ichigo raised his head, with a pseudo-innocent look. "Because, sir, I have a problem."

"What is it?" Kugo snapped.

"Which side is really the vermin, exactly? Mine or yours?" Ichigo asked.

"What do you – "

Ichigo darted forward, his hand closing around Kugo's neck. He clenched his fingers around the man's windpipe tightly, and Kugo gasped, writhing in his seat and clawed at his hands, his face turning red.

"I _said_, which side is _really_ the vermin? _Mine _or _yours_?" Ichigo hissed, his eyes glowing and his sclera bleeding black. Ichigo watched the man gasp and choke for a few moments before he released him, stepping back and walking over to the balcony that separated the two staircases. Kugo coughed and hacked for a minute or so, before he managed to speak.

"You're… You're one of _them_?"

"I am their Alpha… their leader," Ichigo growled, glancing over his shoulder to pierce the man with a harsh stare.

"You've come for a fight then, eh?!" Kugo shouted, standing up to quickly pull out a steel greatsword, grasping it in both hands. "You're the cause of this war, so come and fight me like the beast you are!"

"_Fool! _Do not blame _me_ for your incompetence! _I _am the one who has been trying to maintain peace between our races, and _you _are the one breaking it down! You think you know what is best for the people, but war is not what the people need!"

"What would you know about what the people need?! You are just an animal!"

"If I am, then tell me how many casualties my kind has caused!"

"Well – "

"Tell me how many cities we have attacked!"

"Uh – "

"If it were not for my kind, yours would not even be here in Skyrim! So do not tell _me_ that I am the animal here!" Ichigo thundered, not even aware that during his rant, he had cornered Kugo into his throne once again. But, he backed off, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Your kind are nothing but simple-minded weaklings that have nothing better to do than to ostracize another race to feel superior," Ichigo said, and Kugo scowled. "It hurts, does it not? To be on the one who is looked down upon? My kind have always thought that way about yours."

"See! You and your – "

"I forbade them from interacting with the mortals if they could not handle themselves properly," he continued, as if Kugo did not even speak. "Yet, we have done nothing, but you still treated us as if we were another mindless beast that you would kill upon sight. Why?"

"Your kind could be one of us, and we would never know! And we knew of some of your great power from the Nordic-Falmer War, where you helped the Atmorans defeat the Falmer. I didn't know what to believe! These legendary creatures could walk amongst us! I believe that calls for alarm!"

"So you saw fit to be rid of us? I tire of your foolishness, Kugo. Kira's death was the last straw, and the only prize that would sate my bloodlust would be your head," he said, his eyes glowing even brighter as they focused their intense gaze onto Kugo. He removed his leather gloves, tucking them into his armor. He flexed his hands, and long, hooked claws protruded out of his fingers. He raised his hands and took a fighting stance, watching Kugo expectantly.

"I itch to sink my claws into you," Ichigo grinned maliciously, baring his elongated fangs. He surely looked like a feral demon now, with his haunting eyes, claws, and sharp teeth.

Kugo actually looked hesitant for a moment, before it was gone and he was lunging. He swung his sword in a quick arc, but Ichigo grabbed the large blade with his bare hand, and pulled it towards himself. He smacked his forehead into Kugo's, and Kugo swayed slightly with the force of it.

Ichigo took the chance of Kugo's disorientation to crouch quickly and sweep his feet out from under him, the man crashing to the floor and the greatsword clattering away. Ichigo dove on the man's waist quickly to pin him down, slashing at Kugo's face with his claws. He raked them down his face once before Kugo was bucking his hips and grabbing his wrists, rolling them over. Before he could pin Ichigo, he pulled his legs up to his chest and smashed his feet into Kugo's chest, throwing the man off of him.

Ichigo quickly got to his feet, and but he was not quick enough as the blade slashed into his side. He grinded his teeth together at the pain and darted out of the range of the long blade, taking in Kugo's appearance. There were long wounds down is face, and one of his eyes were cut and bleeding. Blood was dripping down the man's neck and armor.

"Is that all you've got?" Kugo taunted, panting.

"Far from it," Ichigo smirked and lunged again, but he was slower. He tried to ignore the pain of the deep wound in his side and grabbed his daggers, unsheathing one to meet the greatsword. He reached with the other to finish the man like he did with the guard, but Kugo leaned back just in time for the dagger to just miss his jugular. He twisted out of the way of the greatsword and drew his bow, nocking an arrow quickly. He let it fly and it sunk so deep into the man's thigh that he actually screamed, dropping his weapon to rip out the arrow that was imbedded in his leg.

Kugo took up his sword again after he tossed the arrow aside, blood pooling around his injured leg. Ichigo hissed as he took a defensive stance, slinging his bow back over his shoulder. His wound was deep and bleeding out quickly, so he had to end the fight soon. He did not have to wait long for Kugo to charge again, but he was more sluggish than before. Ichigo did not even try to dodge as the greatsword came at him in a jab, but he shifted to the side a bit to let the sword barely miss.

The man was only a few inches away now, and Ichigo took his chance to sink his fist into the flesh under the steel breastplate. He grasped around for a moment until he grabbed the man's heart. In a harsh pull, he had Kugo's beating muscle in his palm as the man collapsed into the floor. Kugo's breathing was harsh and labored, and he was weakly grabbing for the hole in his chest, before he went limp and his eyes dulled.

"_Tiiraaz jul, tiiraaz dinok…**(1)**_" Ichigo mumbled as he placed the heart onto Kugo's chest.

He went around the man and picked up his arrow, flicking away the blood before he returned it to the quiver. He remained silent as he left the Throne Room, walking down the stairs, through the Receiving Hall, and out the main doors.

He stopped outside the courtyard entrance, staring in shock as he counted how many dragons were still fighting. There were only four left. Kisuke and Yoruichi were flying, trying to kill as many as they could with what magicka they had left. Renji and a small white dragon named Toshiro Hitsugaya were grounded, fighting off the soldiers without their _Thu'um_. Ichigo knew that the dragons had taken a lot of soldiers with them, but they had only twenty or so dragons to start with. Even if they were more powerful than the mortals, they were outnumbered. There was only so much they could do.

Ichigo sighed, but he could not help the feeling of pride in his chest. They had died in battle; an honorable way to leave the world. He raised his head high and proud, flapping his wings to shoot himself into the sky.

He let out another screech, catching the attention of the survivors. They gratefully flew after him, leaving the burning, death-ridden city of Solitude behind.

"Is it over, Ichigo?" Toshiro asked as he flew in beside him, glancing at him with his icy blue eyes.

"Yes, for now at least," Ichigo answered, nodding his head towards the small dragon.

"What about Kugo?" Renji asked from his other side.

"He is dead."

Victory cries were heard across the skies, leaving the beings on the ground in awe. They had gotten their revenge at last, but not without a price. Many had fallen in combat for the dragons, but with each one, they took ten or more soldiers with them. The dragons had killed the Imperial General, but the Imperials did not kill the dragon's Alpha, so they knew who the victor of this battle was.

They flew to the Throat of the World once more, flying with pride in their graceful twirls in the wind. They landed on its rocky peak, not knowing of the impending dangers coming.

Renji was not as happy as the others, for he had lost his mate to the Imperials. Rukia's wings had been torn by their arrows, and she had been grounded. Dragons do not last long without their wings, and she was no exception. Renji mourned that night and the others sat in a solemn silence to grieve for not only Rukia, but the others that had fallen.

When morning broke, they had all gotten little sleep. The winds were still and the sky was clear of clouds. Ichigo was the first to raise his head, looking to the sky.

His family was gone, he realized. They used to be the mightiest clan in Tamriel before the mortals came. It had all started when the Falmer, or the Snow Elves, came to the continent. They had been peaceful at first, but the dragons had still been wary of the newcomers. They had not been surprised when their arrival resulted in a war, but they had been surprised by the Falmer's power. The Falmer were skilled mages, almost rivaling their own Shouts. That war was a gruesome one, and their powers were practically equal on both sides. There had been well over 200 dragons in their clan during that time, and at the end of the war, there were only about 40 left. Then, even after the war, they were still hunted. The Falmer were merciless, using their spells to track them down in their dens and kill them. They were forced into creating a new Shout so they could go into hiding—the Shout that transformed them into mortals.

It was not until the Atmorans, the first human settlers in Skyrim, arrived from Atmora that the dragons had a chance of getting rid of the Falmer. It was over the course of hundreds of years that the warrior people from the north came, populating the continent of Tamriel at an astonishing rate. The Falmer sought to exterminate the human population before they became a significant threat to the Elvish civilization. One night, a night that later became known as the Night of Tears, the Falmer attacked the human settlements with brutal force.

With that was a beginning of another war. The survivors of the Night of Tears gathered into a group that they called the Five Hundred Companions, and they were led by the one and only Genryuusai Shigekuni-Yamamoto. It was not until the final battle, the Battle of Moesring, in the plains of Skyrim did Ichigo and his dragons make an appearance. The Elves had been weakened greatly by the force of the Atmorans, and Ichigo had been confident that with his kind's help they could end the war in the Atmoran's favor.

So, Ichigo had issued an official truce between the newest settlers of Skyrim, but he should have known it would have ended in another war. He should have known that his kind would not have been accepted that easily. But he had ignored his instincts and had tried to be optimistic. He had even given away the dragon's well-guarded magic, the _Thu'um_, so maybe, they would be accepted. He only succeeded in giving his enemies the greatest weapon to drive them into extinction. He would never try to be peaceful with the mortals again. They may have fooled him once, but they will never fool him again.

Footsteps shocked him out of his reverie, and he walked over to look over the edge of the peak to see a small group of Imperials on the landing of the Seven Thousand Steps. They were looking around the empty plateau of the mountain. Ichigo then noticed who exactly was in the group. It was Hakon One-Eye, Felldir the Old, and Gormlaith Golden-Hilt. He quickly hid back behind the barrier of rocks.

Yoruichi, Kisuke, Renji, and Toshiro were alert now, looking at him in question. He mouthed the words, 'be quiet,' to them, and then thrust his head back toward the rocks. They soundlessly crept over, peeking over it one by one to survey the people. They, of course, did not know how much danger they were in.

"They have learned our Shouts," Ichigo explained in a low voice, and he gave them sharp looks to keep them quiet. He had no idea how to handle this situation. They could stand and fight, and possibly be all killed, or they could flee, and possibly be found later. But, it seems that he did not even have to choose.

_Your Voice is not a Shout, but a whisper, revealing the life forces of any and all._

"_Laas Yah Nir,_" he heard the whisper from below, and his blood ran cold.

"Attack!" Ichigo commanded, knowing he had to before they could. He flapped his wings and he flew out of hiding. He dived down to where they were waiting, inhaling his breath.

"_Yol Toor Shul!_" he shouted, a surge of flames pouring from his mouth and towards them. They jumped away, but he managed to burn them some. He landed in front of them, lowering his head.

"You made a mockery of me!" Ichigo growled, swiping his head down and managed to snatch Hakon by his leg, swinging him around and slamming him into a boulder. He let the wounded man go and turned back to the others, baring his teeth. He took to the skies again with Toshiro as Kisuke and Yoruichi dove to fight.

Kisuke landed in front of them while Yoruichi landed off to the side. He was not prepared for the attack that greeted him.

_Your Voice is raw power, pushing aside anything - or anyone - who stands in your path._

"_Fus Ro Dah!_" Felldir shouted, the wave of power stunning Kisuke for a moment.

_The Thu'um rushes forward, carrying you in its wake with the speed of a tempest._

"_Wuld Nah Kest!_" Gormlaith shouted, and with a blink of an eye she was in front of Kisuke, sinking her sword into his neck before ripping it across the flesh. He screeched in pain after she ripped the blade out of him, blood pouring out of the wound in sickening amounts.

He growled, fighting his darkening vision caused by the blood loss. He reached down quickly, grabbing the woman that was trying to retreat. He sunk his teeth into her body, crushing her bones and puncturing her flesh through her Imperial armor. He made sure he had his grip on her before he slung her forwards with his remaining strength. The last thing he saw was her body disappearing over the edge of the steep mountain, and his vision went black.

"_Kisuke!_" Yoruichi cried as her mate collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own blood. She turned on Felldir, charging towards him, and she was about to crush the defenseless man when another stepped in front of her.

_Speak, and let your Voice herald doom, as an opponent's armor and lifeforce are weakened._

"_Krii Lun Aus!_" Hakon shouted, and Yoruichi paused for a moment to gasp in pain, her heart and body convulsing with pain. She kept charging, though she was slower and her body was trembling. She growled weakly and snapped her wing out to smack it into Hakon who tried to block it with his arm. He yelped as he flew into the snow, cradling his broken arm. He was gasping for breathes, blood spilling over his lips as his other arm held his chest. His ribs had collapsed inwards, puncturing his organs.

Yoruichi kept trying to charge, blinded by her rage towards those who killed her mate. Felldir drew his own sword, and dodged a slow swipe of Yoruichi's jaws. He darted forward, jumping on to her back. He quickly smashed his sword into the base of her neck, severing her spinal cord. The dragon went limp, trembling on the ground. He aimed another strike on the left side of her back, sinking it through the weakened armor to puncture her heart. Yoruichi gasped and spat blood onto the snow, coughing for a moment before she was still.

Ichigo and Toshiro who had been in the sky until now were enraged. Toshiro was the first to dive, his small form blurring with his speed. He was nearing them, and he flared his wings as he prepared to Shout. But, he was not the only one, and Toshiro was just a second late.

_Coax both magical and mortal energies from your hapless opponent._

"_Gaan Lah Haas!_" Felldir bellowed just as Toshiro opened his mouth, and quickly he was grounded, panting in exertion and looking exhausted.

"Damn it all…" Toshiro cursed as he tried to stand up, Felldir approaching him with his sword raised.

Ichigo was diving down now, but with his large form he could not go as fast. Curses spilled from his mouth as he watched Felldir climb on top of Toshiro who was still trying to stand, waving his wings about to try and knock the man off of him.

But he was too late. Felldir sliced his sword across Toshiro's throat just as Ichigo got there. Ichigo swung his head into Felldir's back, throwing the man sideways to crash into a wall of rock.

Ichigo landed, his form tense as he turned towards Felldir who was trying to pick himself up off of the ground. A low growl was rumbling in Ichigo's throat and his eyes were alight with fury.

When Felldir picked himself off the ground, he held his stomach, and blood was seeping through his armor. "You were too trusting, dragon… giving away your precious magic to us…" he said, before he coughed, blood dripping down his chin. "Look at you… you're the only one left! There's nothing left for you but death… but I know I can't kill you…"

Felldir reached behind him with his free arm, pulling a long scroll from his back. Ichigo's eyes widened, and he cursed to himself, raising his wings to take to the skies again, but Felldir, again, was prepared for this.

"_Joor Zah Frul!_" he shouted, a wave of energy forcing Ichigo to stay on the ground, and it was just enough time for Felldir to open the scroll while coughing up more blood.

"Begone! By words with older bones than your own, we break your perch on this age and send you out! You are banished! Dragon, we shout you out from all our endings unto the last!"

Ichigo fought with all of his might to raise his wings to fly, but they would not move. He let out a ferocious roar, rocking the lands with the force of its rage. A light engulfed him, swallowing his body and he vanished, and with that, the dragons were finally extinct…

…or are they?

**xXxXx**

**A/N: And this is where I must end the chapter. Sorry for the cliffhanger... not really xD**

**Grimmjow is in the next chapter! The real plot starts then.**

**Also the descriptions of the Shouts, I got those from Elder Scrolls Wiki, so those aren't mine.**

**1._ Tiraaz jul, tiraaz dinok _- Sad man, sad death**

**- Shiro -**


	5. Unbound

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

Grimmjow groaned as she woke. There was an awful pain in her head, the throbbing and aching kind. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times to clear her blurry vision.

She was now aware of the jostled movements of the caravan she was in. She was sitting in a wooden cart being pulled by a horse, with three men in the cart with her. Down in front was another horse-drawn cart with more people sitting in them. Falling behind them was a man on horseback.

'_Why am I here?_' she thought to herself before she tried searching through her foggy memories. She had been crossing the border into Skyrim from Hammerfell when the Imperials ambushed her with another group called the Stormcloaks. She had put up a fight, but she had been outnumbered and had been knocked unconscious. So now, she must be somewhere in Skyrim, probably heading somewhere where they kept war prisoners.

Grimmjow knew about the civil war going on in Skyrim from her travels, but she never thought that she would get involved.

She cursed under her breath, and it caught the attention of the man sitting across from her.

"Hey, you! You're finally awake," the man said. He had shaggy, shoulder-length blonde hair that had a braid hanging on the left side. He was muscular and had dirty Stormcloak armor on. It has a blue cloth that wraps around the quilted armor underneath it with leather belts fastening around the torso, with fur boots completing his set.

"Yeah, yeah… Who're you?" Grimmjow asked, raising her tied hands to point at him.

"Ralof," he answered.

"Grimmjow," she replied.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" he asked. When Grimmjow nodded, he continued. "You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there," he said, jerking his head towards the man sitting next to him.

"Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along," the man snapped. He had messy brown hair, brown eyes and he was wearing a roughspun tunic and pants with footwraps. "The Empire was nice and lazy. If they weren't looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell," he sighed.

Then, he turned towards Grimmjow. "You there! You and me; we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants," he said, his eyes begging to back him up.

"That may be true, but that's not going to change the fact that I'm here, now is it?" she snapped. This man was grating on her nerves.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," Ralof grunted.

"My name is Lokir!" the man, Lokir, snapped.

"Shut up back there!" the Imperial guard driving the cart snapped.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" Lokir muttered, looking at the gagged man sitting beside Grimmjow.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" Ralof retorted.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion," Lokir stated, eyes wide as he stared. "But if they've captured you – oh gods – where are they taking us?!"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof said solemnly.

Grimmjow was a bit nervous now. Lokir had a point. If the man beside her was the leader of the civil war rebels, then that meant the only place they could be going would to be executed. Even if she managed to escape, the Imperials had taken all of her weapons, so she would not get very far. Plus, her hands were bound.

'_So much for traveling all around Tamriel,_' she thought sullenly.

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" Lokir was panicking now.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked, turning towards Lokir.

"Why do you care?" Lokir snapped.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof responded.

"…Rorikstead. I'm – I'm from Rorikstead." Lokir replied, his head hung in sorrow.

Grimmjow was not paying attention to the men in her cart anymore. They were now approaching the gates of a village.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" an Imperial called from the top of the city gate.

"Good. Let's get this over with," she heard down in front, from a man on horseback.

They were entering the village now, and as they passed through its gate, she made out a sign over it that said, 'Helgen.'

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," Lokir pleaded from his place in behind her, and Grimmjow silently prayed to her own gods for help.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this," Ralof growled.

General Tullius was sitting on horseback a few feet away, talking with an Altmer, or a High Elf, who was also on horseback. Grimmjow chose to stay silent, looking ahead to see where they were going, ignoring Ralof's mutterings about a man named Vilod and his mead mixed with juniper berries.

"Whoa!" the Imperial driving their cart pulled on the reins of his horse, the cart coming to a stop.

"Why're we stopping?" Lokir asked, his eyes wide with fear.

"Why do you think? It's the end of the line," Ralof answered, and everyone stood up.

"Let's go. We shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us," Ralof stated, and they all began to jump out of the cart, waiting for the Imperials to call their name.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" Lokir cried.

"Face your death with some courage," Grimmjow growled. She was about tired of this man and his insistent whining.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" Lokir turned on Ralof, but he was ignored.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," the Imperial Captain ordered.

"The Empire loves their damn lists…" Ralof commented.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," a man, who Grimmjow absently recognized as the one who was on horseback behind the caravan, called out. He was wearing the Imperial light armor. The entire set was brown leather, and he was wearing the cuirass, bracers, and boots.

Ulfric turned, as ordered, and began towards the group of prisoners that were circling the block.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the man called out again. Ralof followed Ulfric's lead.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," he called out once more.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir shouted before making a break for it.

"Halt!" the Imperial Captain commanded, but he kept running. "Archers!"

In a second, the man was bleeding out on the ground, with two arrows sticking out of his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the Imperial Captain growled, scanning the rest of the prisoners.

"Wait. You there. Step forward," the man called out, pointing at Grimmjow. "Who are you?"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. A Bosmer from Valenwood," she answered, a scowl on her face. The man looked her up and down. She was short in stature and she was lean. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was wearing a set of fur armor. A fur shawl was draped over her shoulders, gauntlets adorned her arms, and she had fur boots on her feet. But what set her apart from the average Nord was her waist-length baby blue hair, piercing blue eyes, teal marks under her eyes, and her pointed ears.

"Not many Wood Elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim," the man commented as he studied the list in his hands for a moment before he turned towards the Imperial Captain.

"Captain, what do we do? She's not on the list," he stated, glancing back at Grimmjow.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain," the man replied before turned back to Grimmjow whose head was bowed. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood."

'_Yeah, right,_' she thought, grinding her teeth together as she followed the Captain towards over towards the block, stopping to stand beside Ralof.

"Ulfric Stormcloak… some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." General Tullius growled, eyeing Ulfric with distaste. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

At that moment, a sound, like a roar, echoed across the sky. Everyone looked up and looked around, startled. Grimmjow shifted on her feet. She did not like the sound of that.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing. Carry on," General Tullius said, but he looked nervous himself.

"Yes, General Tullius," the Captain replied. "Give them their last rites," she commanded, turning towards another woman who was dressed in hooded robes; a priestess of Arkay.

The woman nodded, and began, raising her arms to the skies. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon y – "

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," a Stormcloak soldier interrupted her, walking over to the block.

"As you wish," she replied curtly, before walking away.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning," the soldier snapped. The Captain walked up behind the man and pushed him to his knees, pushing his head onto the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

With that, the executioner raised his blade and slammed it onto the soldier's neck, and his severed head tumbled into the basket in front of it. Grimmjow had looked away just in time, not wanting to see the blood. She sighed, lowering her head.

"You Imperial bastards!" a Stormcloak woman cried.

"Justice!" a villager shouted.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" another yelled.

"As fearless in death, as he was in life…" she heard Ralof mutter from beside her.

"Next, the Wood Elf!" the Captain announced.

Again, the ominous roar echoed across the sky. Everyone looked up once more, shifting anxiously on their feet.

"There it is again, did you hear that?"

'_What is that?_' Grimmjow thought to herself, glancing around the cloudy sky.

The Captain shook her head for a moment. "I _said_, next prisoner!" she stated more forcefully this time.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," the man with the list from before said, gesturing to the block with his hand.

Grimmjow glanced to the sky once more before she slowly made her way to the bloody block. The Captain pushed her to her knees and then pushed her head onto the block.

From here, she had the view of the top of the watchtower behind the executioner and the sky above it. Her eyes widened as the roar sounded again, but something flew over the mountains, but it was not just something, it was a _dragon!_

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

"Sentries! What do you see?" the Captain questioned.

"It's in the clouds!"

"Dragon!"

By now, the beast had flown over and landed on top of the watchtower. She was so shocked, she could not even get herself to get up and run for her life.

The dragon was huge, and she was absently surprised that the watchtower was not crumbling beneath its weight. Its body was as black as night, but it had a white mask on its face made of bone. Sharp white horns pointed down its snout, and strange red stripes decorated the left side of the mask. Its golden eyes drowning in black met hers, and she felt a wave of fear drenching her body like ice water.

The beast let out a roar to the skies, and everyone within range felt its power. Grimmjow was shocked out of her stupor, stumbling to her feet as the clouds rumbled and meteors rained from the sky. Yells and shouts were all around her, and all the soldiers were drawing their weapons.

"Hey, Grimmjow! Get up! The gods won't give us another chance!"

She turned to her right, spotting Ralof in the doorway of the Helgen Keep. Grimmjow quickly ran towards him, running inside the tower before Ralof slammed the door shut.

"What is that thing? Could the legends be true?!" Grimmjow gasped, turning around to look between Ralof and Ulfric.

Ulfric looked at her seriously. "Legends don't burn down villages."

"We need to move! Now!" Ralof shouted. "Up through the tower! Let's go!" he pointed up the winding stairs.

Grimmjow ran up the stairs, and hearing the footsteps behind her, she knew they were following her.

"We just need to move some of these rocks ou – "

The soldier at the top of the stairs was cut off when the wall caved in. Grimmjow stumbled backwards, eyes wide as she saw the dragon peering in the hole a few feet away.

"_Yol Toor Shul!_" the beast bellowed, a wave of flames scorching the men on the landing. The dragon peered around for a moment, and when the thing's terrifying eyes landed on Grimmjow, it was gone just as it came.

They continued up the stairs, and Ralof stepped up beside her as they peered out of the hole. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!" he said.

Grimmjow did as told, bounding over the edge to land inside of the destroyed in. She winced at the harsh landing, running over to jump through a hole in the floor.

"Gods, everyone get back!" the man with the list from before shouted, running behind a barrier of broken down walls just as the dragon blasted fire towards them.

When the man noticed Grimmjow, he nodded towards her. "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!"

The man then turned towards the other man that had taken cover with him. "Gunnar, I have to find General Tullius and join the defense," he stated.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," Gunnar said gravely.

The man, now dubbed Hadvar, nodded, and then took off. Grimmjow quickly followed behind him, feeling extra vulnerable without her weapons and with her hands tied.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar shouted, pressing his back against the barrier. Grimmjow did so, knowing that it would be better just to act and ask questions later. But she understood why when a second later that the dragon landed on top of the wall, its black wings nearly touching them as they draped over the stone. It blasted fire at a soldier up the stairs in front of them, the soldier dropped dead instantly, and then the dragon was gone.

"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar commanded, running up the stairs and through the remains of a building, and Grimmjow again followed without question.

"Die! For the love of gods, die!"

"It won't die! It just keeps coming!"

"By Ysmir! Nothing kills it!"

"It's you and me, prisoner! Stay close!" Hadvar yelled over the shouts of the Imperial soldiers, and she quickly caught up with him, but then Ralof crossed their path.

"Ralof, you damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar growled at the man.

"We're leaving, Hadvar, and you're not stopping us this time," Ralof said.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Hadvar snapped.

"Grimmjow! Come! Into the keep!" Ralof shouted, running for the Keep doors.

Grimmjow gave a momentary glance back to Hadvar, but she quickly followed Ralof.

They entered the tower, and it was a big space with two gates on opposite sides of the walls. Ralof knelt beside a dead Stormcloak soldier that was lying beside a table and muttered, "We will meet again in Sovngarde, brother…"

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," the man said after he stood back up. "That thing was a dragon. No doubt. It's just like the children's stories and the legends! The harbingers of the End Times…" he said, rubbing his face in weariness.

"We better get moving. Do you think you could get my bindings off?" Grimmjow asked, lifting her hands to display the ropes.

"Ah, yes. Come here," he said, drawing a dagger out of his armor as she stepped towards him. He slipped the blade beneath the binds and cut through them.

"Thank you," Grimmjow said as she rubbed her wrists.

"You might as well take Gunjar's gear," he said, gesturing to the dead man lying on the floor at their feet. "He won't be needing it anymore."

Grimmjow nodded and knelt down beside the man, examining the weapons. She scowled when all she spotted was an iron war axe, but she grabbed it anyways. It would have to do.

"I'm going to see if I can find a way out of here," Ralof said, walking over to one of the gates, grabbing it to try and yank it open. "Ah, this one's locked. Let's see about that gate," he said, walking over to the one across from it, trying to open it. "Damn, no way to open it from our side," he cursed.

"Come on, soldier! Keep moving!" a voice rang out on the other side of the gate, one that Grimmjow recognized as the Imperial Captain's.

"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Grimmjow warned in a low voice before crouching on one side of the door way, raising her war axe. Ralof crouched on the other side, unsheathing his sword.

Once the Imperials opened the gate and the soldiers entered, she pounced on the Captain while Ralof took on the other. She swiftly dodged a slow but powerful attack of the woman's sword. She raised her axe to block the next blow, and when the Captain raised her sword to strike again, Grimmjow darted towards her and slashed the blade across the woman's throat. The Captain collapsed, quickly bleeding out on the floor. A moment later, Ralof finished his opponent, sheathing his sword.

"Maybe one of these Imperials have the key…" Grimmjow muttered, reaching down to search through a pouch on the Captain's armor, and lucky enough, she found what she was looking for. She grabbed the key, standing back up.

"Found it. Let's go," she said, jogging back over to the other gate, unlocking it.

**xXxXx**

When they finally got out of the caves, Grimmjow was exhausted. She had fought a lot of Imperials, killed frostbite spiders, and had to sneak past a sleeping bear. But, it seemed as though her troubles were not over yet, as she heard that same roar that ruined her day.

"Wait!" Ralof shouted, crouching behind a rock to hide himself from the dragon that was flying overhead. But Grimmjow stayed put, watching the beast fly out to a distant mountain, landing on its rocky ledges and disappearing inside of it. Her curiosity was peaked. Was that the dragon's lair?

"It looks like he's gone for good this time," Grimmjow said, turning back to Ralof.

"No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We better clear out of here."

"I'd rather not let them try to execute me again," Grimmjow snorted, beginning down the worn trail.

Ralof nodded. "My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood just down the road. I'm sure she could help you out if you need anything."

"Thank you, but I don't think I'll be needing it," she said, glancing towards the mountain the dragon disappeared into. "Thank you for your help today. I wouldn't have made it out if it weren't for you," she said, bowing her head towards him in gratitude.

"Don't mention it. Good luck!" he called after her as she took off through the woods.

True to Ralof's word, just down those trails was the beat up town of Riverwood. She entered the town through its south gate, looking around the worn wooden buildings.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!" an old woman's cries caught her attention.

"What? What is it now, mother?" a young man asked the woman with an exasperated tone.

"A dragon! It was as black as night and it flew right over the barrow!" she cried.

Grimmjow raised a brow. '_The barrow?_'

She continued on, walking through the streets until she came to a sign that said, 'The Riverwood Trader.' She went inside, and the people there did not seem to notice in the middle of their argument.

"Well, one of us has to do something!" a young woman yelled.

"I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!" a man behind the counter retorted.

"Well then what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!"

"We are done talking about this," the man said with finality, and he finally noticed Grimmjow. "Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that."

"It's fine, but what was that about?" she asked, interested.

"Oh, we had a bit of a break-in… but we still have plenty to sell. The robbers were only after one thing. It was an ornament, in the shape of a dragon's claw."

"I could help you get the claw back," Grimmjow suggested, trusting her gut feeling to go with it.

"You could? I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back," he said, grinning in his triumph. "Now, if you're going to get those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town," he said.

"What do you know about Bleak Falls Barrow?" she asked, smirking. '_Bingo!_'

"I just know that it used to be a temple to worship the dragons," he explained. "It has huge stone arches. You can't miss it."

"Alright…"

"Oh! Lucan. Lucan Valerius."

"Okay, Lucan, I'll be back."

Then, she made her exit. Following the trail, she went out through the northern gate. She took a left to cross the bridge, and then she came to a fork in the trails. The one to the right kept going north, and the other went east. Lucan had said that Bleak Falls Barrow was in the northeast, so she went left.

For a while, she was just trekking up the mountain, and she thought she had found it when she saw a structure in the distance. But, it turned out to just be an abandoned watchtower.

She was startled, though, when she heard someone call out. "Who's there?" A man that she had not noticed before stood up from his place against a tree next to the watchtower's entrance. Grimmjow silently crept back behind a tree, leaning out a bit so she could watch the man, probably a bandit. He stood there, looking around with his weapon raised for a minute or so, before he sat back down against the tree.

Grimmjow let out a relieved sigh. She did not want to have to fight before she even got to the barrow. Looking around, she noticed that her path took a sharp turn right to keep climbing the mountain. She glanced back at the bandit before she crept out of her hiding place. She watched the ground intensely so she would not blow her cover.

Just up ahead, the trail took another sharp turn out of sight, so she sped up her steps, using the snow that was falling heavier with each step to her advantage. When she neared the turn, she darted behind it to take cover. What she was not prepared for, was the sight of the Bleak Falls Barrow in the distance. It was enormous, with brilliant stone arches and long staircases up to the main temple. It made for a magnificent sight.

The sky was darkening now and the snow was thick. Grimmjow tiptoed towards it, drawing her long bow that she had gotten in Helgen. She nocked an arrow, climbing the stone stairs. She crouched down as she got to the top, peering around through the falling snow. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she aimed her arrow towards it. It was a bandit, a man walking around the wide column that hid the main doors from her view. She pulled the bow string back, aiming it carefully. She fired, and it sunk into the side of the man's head, and he collapsed.

She quickly came out of her hiding and ran towards the doors, but she was stopped by an arrow that lodged itself into her shoulder. She cried out, stumbling forwards. She looked over her shoulder to see the long missile sticking out, but she left it there. Grimmjow did not want to be dying of blood loss.

Grimmjow turned around, looking around for her attacker. The bandit was standing a distance away, pulling back her bow string once more. Grimmjow quickly ran behind a nearby column, and she nocked another arrow herself. She went around the other side of the pillar, peeking around it. The archer had moved, circling around the side Grimmjow had went. Grimmjow followed her, readying her bow. She fired, and the arrow flew and sunk into the archer's thigh. The woman fell, holding her leg as she groaned. Grimmjow swiftly shot another arrow, killing the woman with a blow to the head.

Grimmjow took her chance to run for the doors before more guards decided to show up. The tall doors were as beautiful as the rest of the temple, with its intricate carvings. They were slightly ajar, so she slipped inside. The space inside was large and littered with debris, and she could see the light of a fire on the other side opposite from her. She crouched and kept her bow drawn, sneaking forwards to see a man and a woman sitting around the fire.

"If that dark elf wants to go on ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks," the man said.

"What if Arvel doesn't come back? I want my share from that claw."

"Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble."

Grimmjow then drew her arrow, letting it fly. It lodged itself into the man's throat, and he fell to his knees, ripping the missile out. But he only succeeded in letting himself bleed to death. Grimmjow ran around the giant pillar and nocked another arrow. She ran straight towards the bandit that was trying to ready her own bow. Grimmjow quickly fired her shot, puncturing the woman's heart with her missile.

Grimmjow winced in pain as she went about gathering her arrows. She had to get that arrow out of her shoulder before she continued on. After placing her arrows back in her quiver, she reached behind her and carefully pulled the arrow out, grinding her teeth together to keep herself from crying out. She tossed the arrow aside and concentrated her magicka into her hands for her healing spell. She felt immediate relief from the pain as the white light spread over her body.

When the spell was done, she rolled her shoulder to work out the soreness. Then, she walked over to the mysterious tunnel that was behind the bandits' fire. She sighed when she noticed the white webs draped over the walls. Webs meant spiders and she _hates _spiders.

But, she continued down the tunnel anyways.

It was quiet for a while, following the twisting paths, passing by random shelves and taking the gold and potions there.

Suddenly, there was a man's cry from down the tunnel, and she watched as arrows rained down on him from an unknown source. He was dead in an instant.

She swiftly made her way down there and it opened into a room. The man was lying beside a lever with arrows protruding from his body. There was a door that was barred in front of her, and three pillars inside the wall were on her left. There were tablets on them with the picture of a bird, a whale, and then another bird in order from left to right.

'_Odd…_'

On her right was a set of stairs that let up to more tablets above the door. There was a picture of a snake on the left and a whale on the right. The middle tablet was missing. She glanced around, noticing a tablet laying in some rubble beside the lever. It was the picture of a snake.

It was a puzzle, she realized with trepidation. She moved over to the three pillars on her left and set them to the correct order: snake, snake, whale. She pulled the lever, jumping back just in case, but the only thing that happened was that the door opened. Grimmjow sighed with relief. This place was just one big trap.

Grimmjow carefully moved through the door, looting the chests before she turned towards the spiraling staircase that went down to who knows where. She slung her bow back over her shoulder, drawing her steel sword, holding it in front of her as she descended the wooden steps. At the bottom, she only had a second to ready herself at a skeever's growl. She slashed at the animal, jumping away as it tried to jump at her. She swung at it again, and this time it went down. It looked like a rat the size of a small dog.

At the bottom of the stairs, it opened into another room that was covered in webs, but there was no spiders to be seen. She went about looking for things to take, and she was about to continue when she heard another voice from down the tunnel.

"Is… is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?" a man called. "I need help!"

He must be Arvel. Grimmjow was tempted to go running towards the man to help him, but she did not know if it was a trap. So she kept with her silent gait, walking down the tunnel until she took a left, and a mass of spider webs blocked the entrance into a new room. She gathered her magicka into her free hand until flames flickered into her palm. She thrust her hand forward and shot the fire at the webs. It burned through the barrier in no time, and she quickly ran through it.

What she was not expecting was to come face to face with a giant frostbite spider.

"No! Not again! Get it away from me!" she heard the man from before cry out.

Grimmjow quickly jumped out of the way as the spider shot venom at her. She rolled with her momentum, and she absently noticed that Arvel was tied up in some thick webs.

She swiftly fired her flames at the spider, knowing this type was susceptible to it. It screeched, drawing backwards as it flailed its legs. She took the opening to slice at the things body over and over, trying to kill it before it would get back up. It seemed like it was over too soon as she winced in pain. The spider had managed to get her with its venom. She blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision, shooting flames at the creature once more. Grimmjow again stabbed at its body repeatedly, until it crumpled onto the floor.

She panted as she turned towards Arvel who was still struggling to get free of his bindings.

"Don't leave me, for Arkay's sake! Get me down from here!" the man yelled.

"All of your yelling could wake the dead. Shut up," she snapped, walking over to him.

Arvel was not deterred, much to her annoyance. "You did it. You killed it! Now if you could get me down before anyone else shows up!"

"Where's the golden claw?" Grimmjow asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Did he seriously think she was just going to let him go?

"Yes, the claw. I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how they all fit together!" he said, giving her a sly smirk. "Help me down, and I'll show you. You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden there!"

Her interest was piqued, but she was not that stupid. There was no way that this man was just going to help her out. It had to be some kind of trick.

"Hand over the claw first," Grimmjow demanded.

"Does it look like I can move? You have to cut me down, first," Arvel retorted.

Grimmjow eyed the man warily before she raised her sword. She sliced it through the webs a few times and then Arvel was dropping to the floor, free. She was not surprised when he took off running after he stood up.

"You fool, why should I share the treasure with anyone?" he yelled as he bolted away.

She had to give it to the man; he was pretty fast. But Grimmjow was faster.

The man was quite a distance away, but Grimmjow was quickly gaining on him. They took a turn and went down some stairs, and Grimmjow was finally close enough to Arvel. She dove and tackled him to the ground. She grabbed his helmet and jerked his head up, slicing his throat before he could fight back. He went limp underneath her, and she got up to search through his armor.

She smirked to herself when she found the golden claw. She placed in her own pouch and stood up, about to continue on.

She was not prepared when a group of draugr surrounded her.

What was that she said about waking the dead?

**xXxXx**

**A/N: What the heck is this... I finished this chapter in like one day...**

**Well, anyone who has played Skyrim before knows that 99% of the dialogue in this chapter is stolen. All of the scenes are pretty much identical to the game too... but this was essential to the plot. You'll see in the next chapter xD**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**- Shiro -**


	6. Cursed Child

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

Grimmjow looked at the golden claw in her hand, and then back to the large door. She had finally gotten to the end, but now she was having second thoughts. What if the dragon was really in there? It could kill her! This was not one of her best ideas, now that she thought about it. How many travelers do you think just chase after a dragon? She rubbed her face in irritation, turning to look back through the long tunnels. '_There's no turning back now…_'

She looked at the golden claw, examining the underside of it. There were pictures of a bear, moth, and owl, from top to bottom. Looking back up, she walked up to the rings on the door. She reached up to turn them so they were in the correct pattern, and when they were, she pushed the golden claw into its slot and turned it. When the door started sliding downwards, revealing a staircase, she tucked the golden claw back into her pouch. She still had to return it to Lucan Valerius.

Grimmjow shook her head as she stepped over the threshold of the door, slowly climbing the stairs. She drew her sword, wanting at least some kind of safety. When she came to the top, she heaved a shaking breath, before she was continuing on. There were large pillars supporting the low ceiling, but up ahead she noticed it opened into a vast cavern. She hesitated for a moment before she stepped out, silently walking up to a small bridge that went over a stream. She stepped up onto it, walking across it to an elevated space.

There the dragon was, in all its terrifying glory. It was even bigger up close, dwarfing her in size, and she was close enough to touch it. It was facing away from her, not even noticing her presence with all the muttering it has been doing.

"_Zu'u hind nust los zofaas, nivahriin joorre... Nust qaariv daar mindin krii pah do dii ragnavir ahrk fid zey het...**(1)**_" its deep, rumbling voice reached her ears, speaking a strange language she did not understand.

She absently wondered if his leathery wings were as smooth as they looked, not even realizing that she was reaching out to touch them. When her hand stroked the silky wing, she literally saw every muscle in the dragon's back tense. His head whipped around, pinning her to her spot with his frightening eyes. His wing snapped out and smacked into her, sending her flying back and into one of the pillars. She cried out as she hit the ground, holding her middle in agony.

"_Wo los hi?! Fos los hi drehtaas het?!**(2)**_" the dragon bellowed, standing to his full height and flaring its wings.

'_Damn, he hits hard… I may have broken a few ribs._' Grimmjow cringed as she stood up, using the pillar for support. "I can't… understand… you…" she grinded out; it hurt to talk.

The dragon eyed her for a moment, furling his wings back, but he did not lay back down. His eyes scanned the area around and behind her before he turned back to her. "Who are you?" his exotic accent rolled over the mortal tongue.

"Grimmjow… Jaegerjaquez…" she managed to get out, sitting down to lean against the pillar.

"Why are you here, Bosmer?" the dragon growled.

"I… got curious…"

"You were there in Helgen, were you not? Why would you follow me here?"

"I t-told you…" she coughed, blood dripping down her chin. "I w-was curious…" Her vision was darkening now, and she was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. She could hardly see her feet now, let alone the dragon.

"_Meyus miil...**(3)**_" she heard the dragon mutter, and that was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.

**xXxXx**

Her eye lashes fluttered as she awoke, squinting at the bright sunlight in the room. She was pleasantly warm in her bed, so she snuggled back into the blanket. '_Wait a minute…_'

Grimmjow sat up, looking around in confusion. She was in a room with just a bed and a table with a chair. She had no idea where she was, but this looked like a room in an inn. Was the dragon and Bleak Falls Barrow just a dream? She pressed her hands into her abdomen, and there was no pain. When she broke her ribs, was that all a dream too? But it was so real…

She threw the blanket off of her and stood up, and only then did she notice that her boots, gauntlets, and shawl were gone. She shivered, looking around for the missing items. She found them, with the shawl draped over the back of the chair, the boots sitting on the floor beside it, and her gauntlets were placed on the tabletop. Grimmjow quickly pulled them on, but now she was searching for her weapons.

She looked around again, and found them sitting against the wall next to her bed. She walked over and slung her bow and quiver back over her shoulder. She tied her sword back on her hip, and then examined the room to make sure she was not forgetting anything.

How had she gotten here? She was sure that she had escaped from Helgen, went to the Riverwood Trader, and then went to Bleak Falls Barrow. The last thing she remembered was sitting against the pillar with broken bones, and then suddenly she was waking up here, with no pain. She groaned loudly in frustration, scrubbing her face in her hands.

Grimmjow stormed out of the room, exerting an aura of 'talk to me and I will kill you.' But then she glanced over, noticing the man behind the counter. He was the one who sold the rooms to people, right? So he would know how she got here!

She quickly strode up to the counter and the man turned to look at her as she approached.

"Oh! There ya are! I was wonderin' if ya were alright," the gruff man grinned.

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" she asked, raising a brow.

The man frowned. "When tha' man brought'cha here last night, he said'ja were hurt."

Grimmjow's eyes widened. So it was not a dream after all! "A man? Who was it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't get'a name. He was'a shady fella, I tell ya. He was wearin' black armor, with'a hood 'n mask. I didn't get'a real good look at 'im," he explained, rubbing his chin in thought as he spoke.

"Damn," Grimmjow cursed. Just when she thought she had a lead, it was a dead end.

"Oh, wait! Tha' armor, I think it was'a Dark Brotherhood set," he said, looking at her warily.

"The Dark Brotherhood? What's that?" she asked. It sounded familiar, but…

The man sputtered. "Only tha most feared assassin's guild in Skyrim! I don' know what you're gettin' yaself inta, young missy, but I'm not goin'ta be a part of it!"

"Assassin's guild? Where can I find them?"

"People don' find tha Dark Brotherhood, tha Dark Brotherhood finds them," he said, leaning forward to talk in a hushed voice.

Grimmjow blinked, wide-eyed. An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood brought her here? What did that have to do with Bleak Falls Barrow? There was no one else in the barrow with her, was there? '_This is so confusing!_'

"It doesn't matter. Can you point me in the right direction?" she sighed.

"Ah… Well, most'a their hits are in tha bigger cities, so ya might find an assassin there. Tha closest city from here is Whiterun, so I suppose ya could go there…" he explained reluctantly.

"Thank you," she said, nodding her head in thanks, and turned around, walking for the door.

"Be careful! Ya don' know what'cha gettin' inta!" the man called after her.

She exited the inn and she paused when she saw where she was. It was Riverwood. She looked up at the sign above the doorway that said 'The Sleeping Giant Inn.' She'd remember this place next time she came here.

Now, she walked down the steps and in no time she was at the doors of the Riverwood Trader, opening the door. She felt immediate relief from the cold outside, and she stood by their fireplace to warm. The young woman from before was sitting at the table behind her and Lucan was standing behind the counter.

"You're back from Bleak Falls! Did you find anything?" he asked eagerly.

"I have the golden claw," she said, reaching into her pouch and pulling out the ornament.

"You found it!" he cheered, laughing as he took it from her. "There it is. Strange… It seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh?" he laughed. "I'm going to put this back where it belongs. I'll never forget this. You've done a great thing for me and my sister."

"Oh, it was nothing, really. I had my own business up there as well…" she trailed off.

"There's been rumors going around about a Dark Brotherhood assassin coming to Riverwood with you," he said without preamble, leaning his elbows on the counter, looking at her seriously.

"To tell you the truth, I didn't even know what the Dark Brotherhood was until a few minutes ago," she said, and Lucan gave her a questioning look. "The last thing I remember is that last night, I passed out in the barrow, but then I woke up in the Sleeping Giant Inn. The man working there told me that the man who brought me there was wearing the Dark Brotherhood's armor."

"That's strange… that guild never comes here, even if it's just stopping by…" Lucan said with confusion in his voice.

"How did that man know the Dark Brotherhood's armor, then?"

"We have to know our enemies," was all he said.

"Are they really that dangerous?" Grimmjow asked. This was becoming interesting. First there was a dragon, now the Dark Brotherhood.

"No one who has had a hit on them has lived, at least not that I've heard. Does that answer your question?"

"But – "

"I've already said enough. Don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he warned, giving her a stern look.

She nodded, and decided to change the subject. "What have you got for sale?"

Lucan's demeanor quickly changed, a grin breaking his serious expression. "Take a look around!"

Grimmjow examined all the shelves, but those were piled high with food and potions, and that was not quite what she was looking for. "Where are your weapons?" she asked, looking back at Lucan who was watching her.

"In the chest," he answered, pointing to it on her right.

She turned and knelt down, opening it, and the inside was filled with weapons. She grabbed a hunting bow and a quiver that was full of steel arrows; those were all she could afford right now. Grimmjow set the weapons on the counter.

"I'd like to buy these," she said, gesturing to the bow and arrows.

"The hunting bow is fifty septims, and the steel arrows are two septims each,"

Grimmjow pulled her pouch of money off of her hip, and gave Lucan the coins.

Grimmjow pulled her long bow and iron arrows off her back and placed them on the countertop also, and then slung her new bow and arrows on her back. "And, I'd like to sell these."

"Alright. Twenty-three septims for the long bow, and then one coin for each iron arrow," he said, counting out the money before handing it to her. Grimmjow placed the money in her pouch.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Grimmjow smirked, turning to walk out the door.

"The pleasure's all mine," Lucan called back. "Don't do anything stupid!"

Grimmjow rolled her eyes as she closed the door behind her. What made them thing she was going to do something stupid? Chasing down a feared assassin's guild did not sound stupid to her, just a little dangerous, she thought with a grin. Everyone back in Valenwood said that trouble followed her around like her shadow, but this time, she was looking for it.

Taking the road out of the north gate, she came to the fork in the road again. There was a sign that said, 'Whiterun,' and then pointed to the right. So, she followed down the road, enjoying the early morning scenery. The sun was shining, the rays making the frost on the ground and trees sparkle. The White River was flowing beside her, the sound of the rushing water the only sound she could hear besides the chirping birds.

Grimmjow closed her eyes, content to listen to the wilderness, but then her thoughts turned sour. She was involved in the Dark Brotherhood, and she did not even know how. She wondered how things turned out like this. She was just an innocent traveler two days ago, but now she was an escaped prisoner and was suddenly involved in an assassin's guild. Maybe she was just unlucky, she mused, giggling to herself. If only it were that simple.

What was she going to do when she found an assassin? She could not just ask them, 'Hey, were you the one who took me to the Sleeping Giant Inn?' That would just be asking for her throat to be cut. Lucan had said that no one who had a hit on them had lived, so she could not use that as a way to find one. What if she contacted an assassin in the guise she wanted to have someone dead? That might end badly too, though, if they just killed her after finding out she had no job for them. Plus, she had no idea how to contact them. So, the only option left would be to join their guild. She would have to kill people, she shuddered at the thought, but that would be the best way for her to not get killed herself. '_Ugh, this is so tedious._'

Grimmjow shook her thoughts away, filing them away for later. Just up ahead was the city of Whiterun. She passed the farms and stables, walking through the entry. Even though she appeared oblivious, she knew that the guards up above on the walls were scrutinizing her every move. When she reached the huge city gates, she was approached by the guard that was standing next to the door.

"Halt! City's closed with the dragons about. Official business only."

She mentally groaned. It just keeps getting worse. '_Wait, did he say something about dragons?_' she thought, getting an idea. "I have news from Helgen about the dragon attack," she said.

"…Fine, but we'll be keeping an eye on you," the guard eyed her with distaste.

She nodded towards him, unaffected by his pathetic attempt at intimidation. When you have almost been killed by a dragon, these guys looked like weaklings. She walked forward and pushed the doors open. The city was bustling, with people walking about here and there. She could see a woman working on weapons to her left, probably a blacksmith. But she was not here to be a tourist, so she quickly continued down the stone path, the wooden doors slamming shut behind her.

The city was confusing to navigate, but she eventually found Dragonsreach, the keep where the Jarl resides. She climbed the long stairs, and at the top was a walkway leading to the entrance. She took her time walking, admiring the wooden arches above the walkway and just the overall architecture of the place.

But then, she was pushing the doors open, and a great hall greeted her, with a high ceiling and decorative columns along each side. She walked along, feeling out of place in the luxurious room with her dirty fur armor. She came up the stairs, and was stupefied by the long tables that were piled with many kinds of food and drink in silver cups and platters. There was a fire pit in the middle, illuminating the grand room. Across the room was the Jarl sitting in his throne, arguing with someone, whom she assumed was the steward.

"What would you have me do then? Nothing?" the Jarl snapped.

"My lord, please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act," the steward pleaded.

Her eavesdropping was interrupted when a woman advanced on her with her sword raised. Grimmjow tensed, prepared to defend herself.

"What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors," the woman hissed. She was a Dunmer, or a Dark Elf, with the typical dark skin, and red eyes.

"I have news from Helgen. About the dragon attack," Grimmjow said, raising her hands in peace.

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in. Come on then, the Jarl will want to speak with you personally," she said, scowling, sheathing her weapon and walking back towards Jarl Balgruuf.

Grimmjow followed, walking up to stand before the Jarl.

"So, you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

"Yes, I had a great view while the Imperials were trying to cut off my head," Grimmjow scoffed.

"Really? You're certainly… _forthright_ about your criminal past," the Jarl said, raising a brow. "But, it's none of my concern who the Imperials want to execute. Especially now. What I want to know is what exactly happened at Helgen."

"The dragon destroyed Helgen. The last I saw, it was heading this way," Grimmjow explained.

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" the Jarl said, turning towards the steward next to him. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once," the Dunmer woman stated. "It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains – "

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him," Proventus interrupted. "We should not – "

"Enough!" the Jarl snapped, silencing Proventus's tirade. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" the man shouted, before he turned to the Dunmer. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl," the Dunmer, now Irileth, replied, turning away to follow through with her order.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties," Proventus said, bowing his head.

"That would be best," Jarl Balgruuf said, and turned towards Grimmjow after the man left. "Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. What's your name?"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," she answered, giving a slight bow, and then taking her leave, not waiting to be dismissed. Now, she just needed to find an inn so she could talk to the workers. They could give her some information about how to attract the attention of the Dark Brotherhood. Unintentionally, of course.

She was about to descend the stairs down from Dragonsreach once more, but she paused when she noticed the guard standing next to the landing. She walked up to him. "Excuse me, but could you point me towards the nearest inn?" she asked.

"Yes, there's an inn town in the Marketplace, called The Bannered Mare. It's past the Gildergreen," he explained, pointing into the distance, past the large tree she had passed on her way up here.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a nod, and began her descent. She passed the tree called the Gildergreen, walking down the stairways until she came into the Marketplace. There were a few stands set up with their goods out in display. The center was surrounded by large buildings, and she began to look around for The Bannered Mare.

Spotting the sign, she walked towards the homey place, pushing the doors open. She walked in, quietly shutting the doors behind her. There was a soft thrum of music in the air and a pleasant smell of cooking foods. There were a few people sitting on the benches around a fire, laughing and talking.

"Hey, Hulda! Another round if you will!" a patron sitting in the group called to a woman behind the counter.

"Sure thing," Hulda answered with a grin, and then turned. "Saadia! Get these fellows some mead, would you?" she called to a Redguard woman who was sweeping the floor across the room. She had the typical dark skin with shoulder-length black hair.

The overall atmosphere was cozy and content, and she had to force herself to remember her mission.

Grimmjow strolled up to the woman behind the counter, and Hulda stood up straight from where she was leaning against the bar. "What can I get you?" she asked.

"Hm… I didn't really want anything, I just needed to talk to you," Grimmjow replied.

"Oh? If it's work you need – "

"It's nothing like that," Grimmjow interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "Have you heard any rumors lately?" she asked, holding off on her direct questions.

"If it was rumors you wanted, you should've said so," Hulda grumbled. "Well, Jarl Balgruuf's son has been troubled lately…" she trailed off when Grimmjow gave an annoyed huff.

'_I guess I'll have to be blunt then,_' Grimmjow thought.

"What do you know about the Dark Brotherhood?" Grimmjow leaned forward to ask her question in a low voice, so she would not attract the attention of the other patrons.

Hulda's eyes went wide, and then they narrowed. "Who are you?" she hissed, but she kept her voice hushed.

"Does it matter?" Grimmjow asked nonchalantly, but when the woman did not budge, she sighed. "I'll pay," she grumped, pulling several coins out of her purse.

The woman still looked reluctant, but Grimmjow could see her resolve crumbling at the mention of money. She finally broke when Grimmjow placed the coins on the counter, grabbing them and stowing them away under the counter. "Fine, but it's not often we get people who want to know about those… _savages_…" she scowled.

Grimmjow held back her smug grin. It probably would not help her get this information in the long run. "So, what do you know?"

"Well… there's been whispers… A boy, up in Windhelm, name of Aventus Aretino. He's been trying to… _contact_ the Dark Brotherhood…"

"How does someone contact them?"

"Don't ask about such things. That ritual is a curse," Hulda growled, a disgusted look on her face.

"I'll find out eventually, anyways," Grimmjow tried to persuade information out of her, and Grimmjow was unsurprised when the woman appeared to have played this game before.

"And I'll be content knowing I wasn't the one to blame," Hulda snapped back, before she was walking around the counter towards Grimmjow. "I think it's best if you leave," she said, her eyes promising retribution if she was refused.

"Thank you for your time," was all Grimmjow said as she turned and left. She knew that staying there and harassing the employees would be unsuccessful.

She left the tavern, walking through the busy streets, toward the gate, while her thoughts were racing. How could she use Aventus Aretino to her advantage? He was trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood, so he must know the 'ritual' as Hulda called it. There was a damned _ritual _to call these assassins out? What were they, a _cult? _But, she supposed the only way to find out is to go to Windhelm and talk to this kid. Though, she was curious, too, as to why a little boy is trying to contact an assassin in the first place.

'_Oh well, I guess I'll find out when I get there._'

Grimmjow pushed the gate doors open and left just as she came.

Her travel so far was uneventful, except for the stray bandit here and there. She followed the flow of the White River, knowing that it would take her to her destination. Unfortunately, as she was traveling east, she came across a problem when she approached an abandoned tower. But, it turned out to not be so abandoned when a woman came out of the tower and advanced on Grimmjow.

Quickly, Grimmjow drew her bow and nocked an arrow. She pulled the string back and fired, and it expertly sunk into the bandit's shoulder. The woman cried out, stumbling backwards with the impact. Grimmjow charged at her before she could come at her again, replacing her bow with her sword. Her blade pierced the bandit's stomach, and as she pulled her weapon away, the woman dropped to the ground.

A whistling sound was the only warning Grimmjow got. She managed to jump to the side, narrowly missing the arrow that was now imbedded in the ground beside her. She looked up and nearly groaned. There was an archer standing at the top of the tower, and she could hear shouts coming from somewhere in the distance. She gave the archer a look, and then bolted down the path. Shouts of curses followed her as she took a turn out of sight, but even then she kept running. She was not in the clear yet.

After a few minutes of fleeing, all was quiet. She could no longer hear the bandits behind her, and she stopped for a moment to let herself catch her breath. She had not realized how fast she must have been going, to lose them that quick. She heaved a breathless chuckle, her heartbeat galloping in her chest. She allowed herself some time to calm, and then she started walking.

The sky was dark when she finally reached Windhelm. The winds were harsh and icy and she was being pelted with snow. She sped up her steps when she saw the lanterns by the gates in the distance, relieved when she felt her feet touch stone. The walkway was long from here to the gate, so she about ran towards them. She almost felt pity on the guard posted beside the door, but the keyword was _almost. _She pushed the doors open, and was in awe of the city. The roofs were covered with snow and icicles dangled from the edges.

But Grimmjow had no time to stand around. She wanted to get out of this weather before she got frostbite. She looked around, and was tempted by the building directly in front of her. She quickly strode up to the door, and there was a sign hanging above it that read, 'Candlehearth Hall.'

She stepped inside and sighed in content when she felt the pleasant warmth, shutting the door behind her. Nothing made her feel more at home than this. It really was a culture shock, being here in Skyrim. This was the northern most she has gone. She had been taken here from Hammerfell, and that was a province of grasslands and deserts, so it was going to take time for her to adapt to this harsh landscape. After all, her homeland was a land of jungles and warm rains.

She looked around for the innkeeper, spotting her standing behind the counter. Grimmjow ambled over, standing beside a man who was sitting in a stool, drinking his mead.

The woman looked up as she came over, greeting her with a grin. "This here's Candlehearth Hall. Great room's upstairs, an' there's a bed for rent on the ground floor."

"I'd like to rent the room," Grimmjow said, pulling her coin pouch off her hip.

"Ten septims," the woman said.

Grimmjow handed her the money, placing her purse back on her belt.

"I'll show you to your room. Right this way," the woman said, walking out from behind the counter. Grimmjow followed her down the hallway, and they stopped at some double doors. The innkeeper opened them, and Grimmjow walked in. It was pretty big for a room in an inn. There was a bed in the corner, with a table of food, a shelf holding potions, and a table at the foot of the bed with a bottle of wine and a candle.

Before the innkeeper could leave, Grimmjow decided to ask, "Who's this Aretino kid I've been hearing about?" She hoped that the woman would not be as prickly about it as Hulda.

Regrettably, she was. Her face contorted into a scowl and she became tense. Grimmjow expected her to snap out a '_how dare you!_' or a '_who do you think you are?!_' but all the woman did was look at Grimmjow distrustfully for a few moments before she sagged and sighed.

"Folk been hearing some… _strange_ stuff coming from the Aretino place. Chanting. Talk is, little Aventus is trying to… contact the Dark Brotherhood," she whispered, and Grimmjow barely heard the prayer beneath her breath, "_Gods help that child…_"

Grimmjow was even more interested in the ritual now, but she knew better than to ask after Hulda's reaction, so she just nodded.

"Anyways, enjoy your stay, and don't break nothin'," the innkeeper said and left while muttering to herself.

Grimmjow shut the doors behind the woman and locked them. She set about taking off her weapons, sitting the items on the shelves. She was dead tired. The whole day had been exhausting, and she was ready to get some shuteye. She yawned widely as she walked over to the bed and flopped onto it, snuggling into its fur blankets. It did not take long for her eyelids to droop, and she sunk into a deep sleep.

**xXxXx**

When she woke, she felt refreshed. But, she only sat up and stretched her body while yawning. She swung her feet over the bed and stood up, already dressed since she went to sleep that way. Grimmjow walked over to the shelves and slung her bow and quiver back over her shoulder, before tying her sword back to her hip. She yawned again as she came out of her room, heading out towards the doors from where she came.

Opening them, she was awestruck by the snow blanketing Windhelm. The snow was flurries now, floating peacefully through the air. Grimmjow walked out, her feet sinking into the snow as she did. She looked up to the skies, the snowflakes peppering her face like a lover's tender kiss. She breathed out a quiet laugh, smiling in delight. She supposed this must be one of Skyrim's delicate wonders. Her breath was a white cloud, sweeping out into the air like a gentle spirit. She was enjoying the winter like she thought she never would.

Grimmjow started walking, just walking. She took a breath of the crisp air, alighting her lungs with a new kind of fire. The icy breeze caressed her face, and she enjoyed the feeling of its soft touch.

While she was lost in her trance, she had strolled close enough to hear someone's conversation, and what they were talking about made her snap out of it. Grimmjow turned towards them, and they did not seem to notice her.

"Then it's true, what everyone is saying? That Aventus Aretino is doing the Black Sacrament? Trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?" a little boy asked with a curious tone.

"Oh, Grimvar… always with the nonsense. No, no, of course not. Those are just tales…" a Dunmer woman said.

"Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives right there," Grimvar said, pointing towards a door to a house that stood above them. "I'm going to knock on his door…" the child threatened with a singsong voice, creeping towards the door with his eyes still on the Dunmer.

"No, child! Wait! That boy, that house – they're cursed," the woman said urgently.

"Ha! Then I'm right. I knew it. He's trying to have somebody killed!"

"Alright. I won't deny it, child. What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin," she sighed. "Now, enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need," she said and gently pushed him forwards so they could walk away.

But Grimmjow had other ideas. She walked up to the Dunmer and tapped her on her shoulder. She turned around, and asked, "Yes?"

"Did I hear you say something about a cursed child?" Grimmjow asked, her eyes wide like she had not just been listening in on their conversation.

"Hmm… Yes, it is quite sad. A young boy, Aventus Aretino, lost his mother recently, and was sent to an orphanage," she explained. "But he has returned home, and people have heard strange chanting. They say it's the Black Sacrament, the ritual to contact the Dark Brotherhood. Why a little boy would want to contact a group of _murderers _is beyond me, but he is inviting evil into the city," she growled, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she looked back to Grimmjow. "Until next time," and with that, she was walking away, following after Grimvar.

Grimmjow looked over towards the door Grimvar had pointed to, walking over to it. So this was Aventus Aretino's home? She grabbed the nob and turned it, only to find it locked. She contemplated breaking it down, but she quickly shook the idea away as she dug around her pouch for her lockpicks. She easily picked the lock, and she pushed the door open silently. It was ominously dark except for a dim light coming from somewhere up the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, she crouched, and silently climbed the steps.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: Plot twist! I had to put the Dark Brotherhood in here somewhere. Anyways, I don't own most of the dialogue in this chapter. The credit goes to Bethesda.**

**1. _ Zu'u hind nust los zofaas, nivahriin joorre... Nust qaariv daar mindin krii pah do dii ragnavir ahrk fid zey het_ - I hope they are afraid, cowardly mortals... They deserve this after killing all of my family and sending me here**

**2. _Wo los hi?! Fos los hi drehtaas het?!_ - Who are you?! What are you doing here?!**

**3. _Meyus miil_ - Foolish woman**

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**- Shiro -**


	7. With Friends Like These

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

Grimmjow shuddered, utter disgust etched onto her features. She had been standing in the dark house, watching the little boy for a while now. What she saw made her nauseous.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear…" Aventus chanted. There was an assemblage of bones in front of him, with a dripping heart sitting on top. Beside it was a piece of meaty flesh, its blood seeping into the floorboards. Candles surrounded the effigy, illuminating the room with their dull glow. The boy stabbed the pile of bones with a dagger repeatedly as he chanted.

Grimmjow decided she had enough. This little boy should not be performing such a vile act. She stepped forward, and she let the floorboard creak beneath her feet. Aventus's head shot up and he looked her way, but she had to walk over into the light of the candles so he could see her.

His eyes lit up with glee and a grin stretched across his face. "You've come at last! I knew you would!" he cried, standing up with a new vigor.

Grimmjow blinked stupidly. '_Does – Does he think I'm the assassin?_' Opening her mouth to explain herself, she paused when an evil idea came to mind. She decided to play along.

"I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the… the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!" he cheered.

Grimmjow did not know what to say to that, so she kept silent. This boy was that desperate to kill someone?

"You don't have to say anything. There's no need. You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract," Aventus said, looking as if this was the best day of his life.

"Contract?" Grimmjow wondered.

"My mother, she… she died. I… I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. _Honorhall_," he spat the name like a curse. "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us! So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

Grimmjow's eyes widened with the realization. She was going to have to kill someone already, and it sent a chill up her spine. Of course, she knew that she had killed people before, but those had been in self-defense. These were murders in cold-blood. But she supposed the woman deserved it, with the way that Aventus had described her. She tried to comfort herself with that thought as she nodded numbly to the boy, taking her leave out of the haunting house.

She took no time to admire the scenery like she had before. She nearly sprinted out of the city, but she skidded to a stop when she saw the horse-drawn cart standing outside of the stables. She walked up to the man sitting there who was holding the horse's reins in a loose grip.

"I'd like to hire your carriage," Grimmjow spoke, and the man jumped, his head whipping around.

He gave a breathless chuckle. "Where do you want to go?"

"Riften."

"That'll be twenty septims," he said.

She gave him the money, jumping into the cart and she heard the man flick the reins, the horse trotting out onto the path.

Grimmjow leaned back against the seat, drumming her fingers onto her thigh. She had to think of a plan. She did not think she could just waltz into the orphanage and kill Grelod the Kind in front of the children. But then again, they probably would not care, with how terrible Aventus said she was. It made her feel pity for the children, and a lot of disdain towards the headmistress. With how things are going, she probably will not have a problem killing this woman. That should have been worrying, but surprisingly, she did not care.

As enraptured as she was in her inner monologue, she did not even notice the eyes on her, or the shadowy figure looming behind the stables. Nor did she notice the person vanish into the forest like a phantom.

**xXxXx**

They reached the city by the time dusk swathed the valley. They had passed a lake, and now they were pulling into the foggy city-reaches of Riften. There was a wall up ahead, and she could barely make out the gate and stables through the vapor.

The man driving the cart, who she learned was Alfarinn, pulled on the reins and the carriage came to a stop beside the stables. Grimmjow hopped out of the cart, walking over towards the gates. The guard posted there eyed her suspiciously as she pushed them open, but Grimmjow hardly cared as she walked through.

The city looked rundown; the buildings looked like they were sagging, the wooden docks were rotted, and the fog hanging over it did not make it any prettier. A few people were wandering about, but the city was quiet. She silently treaded along, absently worried about her safety on the rickety walkways. When the breeze drifted through the city, the walls of the buildings creaked. There was an eerie look about the place, like she was walking through a ghost town.

She quashed her unease and took up a confident stride, searching for the Honorhall Orphanage. She crossed the Marketplace, ignoring the shady homeless man lounging outside of it. He looked like one of those who would rob you blind and you would not even notice, so the kept walking.

Spotting her destination, she came to an average looking house. There was a sign above the doorway carved with 'Honorhall Orphanage.' She turned the nob and stepped inside, silently closing it behind her.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?" she heard a woman growl from further inside.

"Yes, Grelod," chimed a group, whom she assumed was the children.

"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you," Grelod growled. Grimmjow, up to this point had been stunned at the things she was hearing, but that last bit was enough to shake her out of her stupor. No wonder Aventus wanted this woman dead.

She pulled her bow off her back and nocked an arrow, creeping around until she came to a large room lit by a fireplace. The group of children were in there, gathered around Grelod the Kind.

"That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?"

"We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness," the children said in unison, misery on their faces.

"That's better. Now scurry off, my little – "

She was cut off when an arrow sunk into her gut. Grelod yelped, stumbling backwards. She clutched her stomach, looking around wildly for her assailant as blood spluttered out of her mouth.

Grimmjow stepped out of her hiding place, her eyes alight with her ire. A younger woman that she had not noticed before stood up, her eyes wide as she stared at Grimmjow.

"Just… leave here! Leave us alone!" she cried, but the woman was ignored as Grimmjow loomed over Grelod. Grelod skittered back—well, tried to, anyways—and was shaking her head frantically. "H-Have mercy!" she croaked. But all she got in reward was Grimmjow taking a hold of the woman's head and snapping it to the side. Grelod dropped to the floor in a heap, her head twisted at an odd angle.

Grimmjow scowled as she reached down to slide her arrow out of Grelod's innards. She returned it to her quiver, and put away her bow. She turned around, prepared to leave, but she paused when she saw the group of children standing cautiously a few feet away. They were staring at her with wide eyes, looking like they did not know who to trust.

"Don't be afraid. I was sent here by Aventus," she cooed, kneeling down so she was at their level. They slowly came to her, a boy stepping up to look at her almost nervously.

"When Aventus took off, when he said those things, about killing Grelod… I never imagined he was serious…"

"Someone has killed Grelod!" one child suddenly cheered, laughing.

"Grelod is dead! Aventus did it!" cried another giggling child.

"Hooray! Grelod the Kind is dead at last! We're saved!"

"Aventus really did it! He got the Dark Brotherhood to kill old Grelod!"

"We love you, Dark Brotherhood!"

It warmed Grimmjow's heart to see them so happy, but it was also sad that they had to wish death on someone to be this way. She grinned anyways, ruffling one of the children's hair, and they pouted.

"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defense?"

Grimmjow looked over, spotting a guard standing in the entrance of the room, his sword raised. She stood up, calmly facing the man. The children looked back and forth between the guard and Grimmjow, afraid for what could happen.

Grimmjow glanced behind the guard, spotting the woman who had tried to stop her before she had killed Grelod. She must have been the one to call the guard. Grimmjow smirked at her, and the woman flinched. She turned back to the guard, who was waiting in tense silence. She had to think of an excuse quickly, then she vaguely remembered that there were whispers of the Thieves Guild in this city.

"I'm with the Guild. Is this enough to clear my bounty?" she asked, pulling out a few coins.

"I can make all your problems with the guards go away. But it'll cost you. What do you say?" he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice from behind the helmet.

"Clear my bounty," she agreed, walking to the man and handing him the miniscule amount of money.

"Done. Now move along, before you get me in trouble," he said, sheathing his weapon and taking his leave. The woman gaped at the man, and Grimmjow grinned at her. She turned around to give a wave towards the children, before following after the guard.

Surprisingly, she felt no remorse after killing Grelod the Kind. The woman was horrible, from what she had seen. The children would probably be put up for adoption and would find caring homes. No one would be around to belittle them anymore, so she was feeling pretty righteous right about now. She was aware of how this would catch the Dark Brotherhood's attention, and she wondered how they would take it. She hoped they would not interpret it as mockery, because she did not feel like dying so soon. She had known it was a gamble, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

She made her way out of Riften and rented another carriage back to Windhelm. She needed to inform Aventus about Grelod's death, so she could get her payment.

She made it back to the city by dawn. She desperately wanted sleep, for she had been up for a whole day, but she had to visit Aventus first. She quickly made her way into the city and maneuvered through it, back to where she knew was his house. Grimmjow let herself in, climbing the stairs and looked around for the boy.

Aventus was sitting at the table, but he stood up as she approached.

"Well? Grelod the Kind – is she… you know?"

"Grelod the Kind is dead," she said with a smirk.

"Aha! I knew you could do it! I just knew it! I knew the Dark Brotherhood would save me!" he cheered. "Here, just like I promised. This should fetch you a nice price," he said, walking over to a shelf to pick up a shiny metal plate, and he handed it to her. "And thank you. Thank you again."

She took the plate in her hands and nodded, watching him sit back down. She took her leave, but not before she left the plate on a table beside the stairs first. She yawned as she descended the steps, letting herself out.

She made her way back to Candlehearth Hall, taking reprieve from the cold inside. She went to the innkeeper, renting the bedroom again for another night. She showed herself to the room, closing the doors behind her without locking them. She collapsed onto the bed, and was asleep when her head hit the pillow.

**xXxXx**

When Grimmjow woke, she was aware of the hard surface she was lying on. She groaned in discomfort, sitting up. Her head was pounding, and her eyes felt like they were glued shut. She pried them open, squinting in the partially dim lighting of the place.

"I must be dreaming…" she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck as she took in the small, dirty shack. She must be sleeping like the dead too, because this was the realest dream she ever remembered.

"Sleep well?" a deep voice purred from behind her and shiver went down her spine at the husky tone. She turned, taking in a man sitting up on top of some shelves. He was wearing red and black light armor that hugged his body, with many straps and buckles running down the chest and across the waist. The armor included red gauntlets on his forearms, black leather gloves on his hands, boots with red plates on his shins and feet, and red plates on his shoulders and lower thighs. She could see none of his features through the cowl, facemask, and veil that concealed his eyes. But, his voice commanded attention; something that made her believe this man should be taken seriously.

"What? Where am I? Who are you?" Grimmjow asked, standing up to face him.

"Does it matter? You are warm, dry… and still very much alive. That is more than can be said for old Grelod, hm?" he said, and Grimmjow was starting to think that the man's accent was familiar, but she could not put her finger on it.

"You know about that?" she asked, perturbed.

"Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around," he said, and at Grimmjow's put out look he continued, "Oh, but do not misunderstand. I am not criticizing. It was a good kill. The old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of younglings, to boot."

Grimmjow almost sighed with relief, but something told her that there was a catch.

"Ah, but there is a slight… problem."

There it was. "A problem?"

"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract; a kill… that you stole. A kill you must repay."

She flinched a little. "You want me to murder someone else? Who?"

"Well now, funny you should ask. If you turn around, you will notice my guests. I have 'collected' them from… well, that is not really important. The here and now; that is what matters. You see, there is a contract out on one of them, and that person cannot leave this room alive. But… which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out," he said, gesturing for her to turn around. "Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe… and admire," he husked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

At that last part, Grimmjow felt another shiver race down her spine. For a split second she had the inkling that he was not just talking about the kills, but she quickly discarded that idea. She did not need those kinds of thoughts distracting her. She turned around, and was stunned by what she saw. There were three people tied up and on their knees, with bags over their heads.

"Am I to take your silence as acceptance? Make your kill, and we are square. Repayment is just a discreet knife thrust away."

Grimmjow gulped, and wandered over to the first person, whom she noticed was a Khajiit. "Whoever this is, clearly we got off on the wrong foot. Ah, but no worries. This is not the first time I have been bagged and dragged. Come now, whatever the problem, we can talk about it like civilized folk, hm?"

"Who are you?" was Grimmjow's question.

"Ah… Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I will have my people carve my name into your corpse, as a reminder."

"Would someone pay to have you killed?" Grimmjow asked, unimpressed by Vasha's threat.

"Me? Ha! Are you serious?" she could hear the grin in his voice.

She bent down and hissed into his ear, "Answer me, or I'll paint this room with your blood."

"Fool! Don't you get it? I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, a nocked arrow on every rooftop! If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult."

Grimmjow scowled, turning to walk over to the next one, when Vasha spoke again. "Tell you what. You release me, and I promise my associates won't hunt you down like an animal and butcher you in the street. It's a win-win."

'_Okay, you're dead,_' Grimmjow decided, walking over to the next one.

"Get these things off of me!" the woman cried.

"Who are you?" Grimmjow asked, already annoyed by this woman.

"None of your damned business who I am! If you're going to kill me, just do it already!" she snapped. "As Mara is my witness, if I didn't have this hood on right now I would spit right in your face…" she growled.

"Would someone pay to have you killed?" Grimmjow had to hold herself back from snarling.

"Excuse me? What kind of question is that?"

Grimmjow took a deep breath and decided to use a different tactic. "It's alright. Just tell me what I need to know," she tried.

"I'm a woman living in Skyrim with six children and no husband. I don't have time to be _nice_. Do some people look down on me? Have I made some enemies? You're damn right," she snapped. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I've got a home to keep and children to feed. Now let me out of here!" she cried, but Grimmjow was already moving on to the last person.

'_You're children won't miss you…_'

"I… I can hear you talking out there. Please, let me go. I've done nothing to you. Is this about that raid last week? I told Holgrim there was no honor in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn't listen! It wasn't my fault, I swear!" the man pleaded.

"Who are you?" Grimmjow asked for the third time, showing no pity.

"My name is Fultheim. I'm a soldier. Well, mercenary, really. You know, a… a sellsword. I've lived in Skyrim all my life. That's all! I'm a nobody, really. So can't you just let me go?"

"Would someone pay to have you killed?" she asked.

"What? Oh gods, I don't want to die…" he whimpered.

"Shhh… Don't be afraid. You can tell me," Grimmjow cooed, and unbeknownst to Fultheim, she was smirking.

"Okay, well… I guess it's possible. I've been selling my sword arm for years now. Killed lots of people. Could be someone wanted revenge," he murmured. "But… But you're not going to kill me, right?"

Grimmjow moved away without saying a word.

"What did I do? Please, whatever it is, I'm sorry!" the man cried, starting to panic.

Grimmjow pulled her bow off her back and nocked an arrow, pulling the bow string back. She fired, and it lodged itself into Fultheim's throat. He tried to scream as he fell backwards, but the only sound that came out was a garbled squawk. She nocked another arrow and shot the woman in the forehead, and she fell backwards, screeching as she did so. She shot Vasha, the arrow sinking into his chest and into his heart, and he fell over, coughing up blood for a moment before he stilled.

Again, Grimmjow was surprised by her lack of remorse. She was expecting the overwhelming guilt to come crashing down on her any moment now, but she felt strangely liberated. It was… odd, but she supposed it was a good thing since her goal was to join the Dark Brotherhood. She turned back around, to see the man was watching her intently. She tried to get a look at his face, but she could not see anything. She could only feel the intensity of his eyes, not see them, since they were veiled.

"Well, well, are we not the overachiever. Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances…" he said, crossing his arms.

Grimmjow had no idea what to say to that, since she knew she could have just killed one and left it at that. She figured that he would have let her off with just killing one, but all three had been annoyances. She decided to say nothing, knowing her excuses would be pointless.

She could hear the grin in the man's voice when he spoke again. "When most would speak, you listen. You think. You understand that the only thing that matters is you following my orders. To kill."

"So… I'm free to go?" Grimmjow asked, watching the man carefully.

"Of course. And you have already paid your debt, in full. Here is the key to the shack," he said, tossing it to her. "But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level."

Grimmjow had to suppress a shudder at the man's words. The man had practically purred them, filled them with underlying promises. She'd never had to force down a blush in her life, but that was what she found herself doing, and it was just from the man's voice. He was probably just toying with her, and that was the thought that chilled her skin quite fast.

"I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my Family, the Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you will find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It is just beneath the road, hidden from view," he explained. "When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: 'Silence, my brother.' Then you are in, and your new life begins."

Grimmjow nodded and walked over to the door, not missing the words the man said as she walked away: "I'll see you at home."

She unlocked the door and stepped outside, her eyes widening as she took in the wilderness. She looked around, noting high grasses and few trees. She looked up, trying to find any civilization. Up on the mountain, she spotted a fortified city looming over the swamps.

Grimmjow swiftly ran towards it, surveying the area for a way to climb the mountain. She had to get up there so she could get her bearings, and then she could travel to the Sanctuary. She circled around the mountain, smirking when she found a trail leading up. She had not even been on the trail long until she came across a farm. She crouched and crept about, eyeing the buildings for any people. When she found none, she slowly edged her way to the stables. She mounted a horse, riding the mare quickly out of the farm.

As she traveled, she had to stop to ask for directions. She had been near Solitude when she had stolen the horse, so she had to travel south towards Falkreath.

With the fast pace of the stolen horse, she made her way southeast fairly quick. She arrived to the city of Falkreath, and she sold the horse since she had no more use of it. She then set out to search for the Sanctuary.

She headed out into the Pine Forest, until she caught a glimpse of a hidden, but slightly worn trail heading down the hill. She followed it, until she found a door nestled into an alcove of rocks. The door was in plain sight, but you had to know where to look to find it. That was probably why no one could ever find the Dark Brotherhood.

The Black Door was darkly colored with a skull carved into it, and on the skull was a bloody handprint. She took a deep breath, knowing once she stepped inside, her fate was sealed. She strengthened her resolve, and approached the door.

"_What is the music of life?_" the door asked in a hushed, echoing voice.

Grimmjow jumped, smacking a hand over her mouth to keep herself from yelping. She had expected someone to come to the door when she knocked, not for someone to just be there! Yet, she somehow knew there was not a person on the other side. She took a moment to compose herself, before she answered in a steady voice:

"Silence, my brother."

"_Welcome home_," it replied before clicked, and swung open all on its own.

Grimmjow grinned and walked inside. Two large banners hung on either side of the hall, with large, black handprints on them. She descended the stairs, and came into a room lit with candles. There were shelves to her right, with books and other items on them. To her left, was a table with a map of Skyrim on the surface. A desolate throne sat behind it, and beside it was another doorway, but she could not tell where it went from her position. When she noticed a flash of orange in her peripherals, she turned towards it, spotting a man leaning against the doorway that she had not noticed before.

He was tall, possibly two heads taller than Grimmjow. His entire body was covered with black leather, but she could tell he was cut with lean muscle. The Dark Brotherhood armor hugged him quite nicely, accentuating his toned body. He practically oozed the power of a predator; someone who could kill you just as mercilessly. He had insanely long, bright _orange_ hair that was tied into a high ponytail, and even then it still reached his knees. His bangs framed his face, so she could not see his eyes.

The man turned as she approached. She froze for a moment when finally met his eyes, the terrifying golden eyes. In that moment, she was back in Bleak Falls Barrow, cowering beneath the might of the dragon. They were intense and vicious with their slit pupils, emitting a fury no human could manage.

But then he was speaking to her, and she was torn out of her fear-induced reverie.

"I hope you found the place alright," the man said, and she blinked when she recognized his voice. She would know that unique accent anywhere.

"Y-You are – ?" she stuttered, only to be, thankfully, interrupted by the man in front of her.

"Yes, I am the one who invited you here. You may address me as Zangetsu," he said, and he smirked at her.

Grimmjow was not going to blush. She was _not_ going to blush. She tried to fight the heat rising up her neck, but when she realized how much better it was to see that smirk than to hear it—if that makes any sense—she was going bright pink. Grimmjow had planned on not even acknowledging this attraction, because it might have caused problems for people in the Family, but now it seemed even harder to ignore.

"S-So what happens now?" she asked, internally cursing her stuttering. If her friends back in Valenwood could have seen her now, she would never live this down.

"Now, you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You are a part of the Family, after all," he answered. "This, as you can see, is our sanctuary. You will not find a safer place in all of Skyrim, so get comfortable."

Grimmjow nodded, but she could not focus with those smoldering eyes on her.

"Now, down to business. I am arranging a job for you, but in the meantime, go talk to Nazir. He may have some smaller contracts to tide you over," Zangetsu said. "Soon the Night Mother will arrive, and things around here are sure to get even more interesting."

'_The Night Mother?_' Grimmjow wondered as she turned to walk past the man, but he stopped her once more. "Ah, but one last thing; a welcome home present. It is the armor of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your… endeavors," he said as he walked over to one of the shelves and grabbed a large bundle of black leather, tossing it to Grimmjow.

"Be sure to introduce yourself to your new Family members. They are all very eager to meet you," he said as she descended the stairs toward the main sanctuary, carrying her new armor in her arms.

"Hahahaha! Again! Again! Do the part where he tries to buy you some candy," she heard someone laugh as the stairs opened into a large cave. She looked around, noticing the group of people standing across the cavern. They were surrounding a little girl, Grimmjow noticed as she approached.

"Okay, okay. Wait, here we go. 'Ooh, you are such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes, how about some chocolate?'" she imitated a man's voice. "'Oh yes, please, kind sir. My mama and papa left me all alone, and I'm so very hungry. I know a shortcut to the candy shop, through this alley,'" she imitated an innocent little girl's voice. "'Oh ya, very good, very good. My, it is dark down there, oh, but you are so beautiful. Such a lovely smile. Your teeth… your teeth! No! Aggghh!"

Everyone laughed, excluding Grimmjow. "Oh, Babette, but you are so wicked," a woman crooned.

A Redguard man on Grimmjow's right spoke up next, turning to a wrinkled man in mage robes on her left. "What about you, Festus? How did that last contract turn out?"

"Oh, yes, old man. Regale us with your tales of wizardry," a gruff man said sarcastically.

"Ah, the young and stupid, always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract went very well, thank you," Festus said with a condescending tone, looking down his nose at the gruff man. "Tried a new spell, a little something I've been working on in my spare time. Came _this_ close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy."

"And what of your latest, Arnbjorn? Something about a Khajiit? Merchant was it?" a woman turned towards the gruff man.

"Oh, a big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" Babette teased, smirking at Arnbjorn. Everyone broke out into laughter, excluding Grimmjow and he. Grimmjow was too busy trying to keep up with names, and gathering what information she could.

"I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn't a merchant. He was a Khajiit monk, a master of the Whispering Fang style," Arnbjorn growled. "But now he's dead… and I have a new loincloth," the man smirked, and everyone burst into laughter once more before they returned to whatever it was they were doing.

She approached the closest man, who happened to be the Redguard man from before. Grimmjow was about to open her mouth to ask who Nazir was, but the man beat her to it.

"So you're the new member of our dysfunctional little Family. I've heard quite a bit about you. I'm Nazir," he said, nodding in greeting.

"You will hear even more, I assure you," she smirked. "Grimmjow."

"Ooh, cocky," Nazir smirked. "I give you three days before you screw up and someone runs a knife across your throat. But who knows? I've been proven wrong before."

Grimmjow blinked, her smirk fading. "Zangetsu said you'd have some work for me?" she asked, eager for her first job.

"Did he, now? Well, as it turns out, there are a few lingering contracts we haven't had the chance to complete just yet. And more, dribbling in from time to time. I'll assign them to you as they become available, to be completed at your leisure."

"Sounds simple enough," Grimmjow said, almost sounding surprised.

"It is. These aren't particularly glamorous assassinations, I'll be honest. Don't pay much, either. But they'll keep you busy. Just do them as you're able. There's no real time limit – the targets aren't going anywhere. Just turn them in after you're done with them."

"I'm ready for my first set of contracts."

"Well then, let's get started. I've got three available right now. Your targets are the beggar Narfi, an ex-miller named Ennodius Papius, and Beitild, a mine boss. When you've completed all those, we'll see if I might have some more," he said, handing her three pieces of parchment with her target's information.

Grimmjow nodded, walking off towards some stairs up ahead. She went up them, coming to a hall. She turned left up ahead, glad to see that there were beds lining the walls. She walked over to a bed across the room and sat the Dark Brotherhood armor on its surface, before she pulled off her weapons and set them next to it, and began to pull off her fur armor. She stored it in the chest beside her bed, and then pulled on the black and red armor, piece by piece.

When Grimmjow was finished, she was clothed in the form-fitting leather. The only skin that could be seen was her head, but she was now working on braiding her hair to the side so she could put on her hood. Once she was done, she pulled her braid down on her chest, and pulled her hood up.

She stalked out of the room after she had returned her weapons to their places on her back and hip, and was surprised at how much lighter her body felt. Her feet were hardly making a sound, too. She grinned, suddenly excited to get to use her new armor in action. Her steps quickened, and she was about to ascend the stairs to head out to the Black Door, but she was stopped in her tracks when Zangetsu called out to her.

"Wait," came the command, and Grimmjow could not help to do exactly that.

"Nazir informed me that you would be completing your first few contracts, and I thought I would accompany you," he said, walking up behind her as she turned around.

"Why? I think I could handle them on my own," Grimmjow said, raising a brow.

"Where is Dawnstar, Ivarstead, and Anda's Mill?" he asked, giving her a look.

Her face colored as she struggled to answer. "Uh – "

"Exactly. I am not going to take your kills, so do not worry about such things. I am only here so you can get the right idea of how we operate," he explained, walking past her, up the stairway.

She scowled and followed after him, muttering under her breath about 'meddlesome assassins', unaware of the man's smirk. They made their way out of the Black Door, and began their quest on Grimmjow's first contract.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: Slow chapter, I know. I'm trying to get the actual plot rolling, since it I had not even introduced Ichigo yet. But no worries, I'm trying. I'm still working out the kinks in what I want to do with this story, so if I start posting less, then that's most likely why. I'll actually start taking suggestions, if anyone has any. Keep in mind, though, that I might not use all of them, but I will give you credit if I do.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**- Shiro -**


	8. Silent Apology

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary: The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, guys! I was on break from school and I expected to get it done, but I've recently gotten a new puppy. He's been keeping me pretty busy, because I had to keep an eye on him all the time. Anyways, I'm so glad this chapter is done, because I had no idea what to do with it when I started it. I just kind of… winged it.**

**xXxXx**

One usually could not make him feel this nervous. This woman, with her honest blue eyes, was unnerving. It was as if she could see right through him. He favored his air of mystery, but this elf was dissipating it just with her stare. He felt like he was being scrutinized down to his very soul, something that make him very uneasy, very quickly.

Zangetsu was the name he had told her, and, to an extent, was his real name. It was his alias he had been using ever since he joined the Dark Brotherhood. No one suspected his name was a fraud, let alone knew his real name. He made a vow that he would keep his identity a very close-guarded secret, and he was successful thus far. He had told no one, not a single soul. He was proud of this fact, yet this woman—Grimmjow, his mind provided—was breaking down his hard work in just the few hours he had known her.

He says this, but he knows she is not suspicious of anything. Just her stare made him feel like a scolded child that was caught in a lie, and made him want to spill his most precious secret. Not once had he felt such a desire towards a person until he met her. She was different, something that he had noticed when she killed the prisoners in her initiation. He had expected her to be horrified at the notion she would have to kill someone, but to his surprise, she had killed all three. The lack of remorse in her eyes made excitement pool in his chest. He'd no idea why he was excited, for his other brothers and sisters in the Brotherhood were just as, or more, ruthless than she was.

Next, he had not suspected her to find the Sanctuary as quickly as she did. Most, after their initiation, took about two weeks to find the place. But Grimmjow had found the place in a mere week, something that made him proud. She was going to be a skilled assassin, he knew it. The others were a bit wary of her, however, but for good reason. When he had been a mere initiate, like Grimmjow—ah, the nostalgia—the Dark Brotherhood had been in crisis. The Sanctuaries across Tamriel were being raided and destroyed, with no survivors. He had been silently moving up the ranks, taking advantage of the chaos, when the Corinthe Sanctuary in Elsweyr was ordered closed by the Black Hand, and its members were sent to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary in Cyrodiil.

Due to a war between Cyrodiil's two biggest skooma traffickers, the city of Bravil had burst into unrestrained violence. The statue of the Lucky Old Lady was destroyed, where the crypt of the Night Mother lay underneath, unguarded and vulnerable. Some assassins had been sent to guard it, including the Listener, but they were all killed, except one, who managed to safely return to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary with the Night Mother's coffin.

The rest of the members in that Sanctuary were eventually killed, leaving only the Night Mother and her Keeper left. By the time this had happened, he was so close to the highest rank he could taste it. He had waited for the opportunity to take power, and his patience paid off when they heard the news of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. He was promoted to the leader after killing the previous, and he was determined to not disappoint until he had each assassin's complete trust.

With a couple years, he had achieved his goal. He was at the top of the guild, with his loyal subjects following his lead. However, he, by no means, was going to tell them who he was. They believed in Zangetsu, the ruthless, yet fair, leader of the Dark Brotherhood. He had no plans to destroy the picture he worked so hard to paint.

With the Night Mother's impending arrival to the Sanctuary, everything would have been in place, and they would work on expanding the Brotherhood. Everything should have been in order, but with the new initiate, Grimmjow, he was getting distracted. He would not lower himself to petty denial, however, and deny himself this woman.

She was a beautiful Bosmer, with baby blue hair flowing down to her waist. She had soft features; glittering cyan eyes lined with dark blue lashes and aqua markings under them, a straight nose and plump pick lips. She had unblemished, lightly tanned skin, and was small in stature, her head coming to his chest. Her body was cut with sinewy muscles, with a lean shape that belied her strength. But he knew not to underestimate her, unlike all others she has faced. He has seen the way she moves, like a top-notch swordsmen. She moved like the blade was an extension of herself, not like it was a weapon. She was not graceful like one would expect, but sharp and quick in her movements in an utmost deadly way. They were opposites in a strange way, with her small, lithe body relying on offense and blocking while he was tall and muscular, relying on defense and dodging.

"…tsu? …getsu? Zangetsu?"

Grimmjow's voice snapped him out of it, and he blatantly realized he was staring at her rather intently for quite some time. He looked away from her eyes, perturbed. "Yes?"

"The contract closest to the Sanctuary was in Ivarstead, but I don't know where that is," she said, annoyance obvious in her voice.

He looked around for the first time, and he noticed they had walked far, and were now walking on a path where, to their left, the mountain dropped off to a cliff. He looked up, spotting the Throat of the World into the distance, straight ahead of them. Ivarstead was a small rural village on the other side of the mountain, so they would have to find a way to get there from here. He walked over to the edge, peering down into the valley below. Spotting Falkreath into the distance, he nodded to himself.

"Off we go then," was all he murmured before he turned and began down the path once more.

"Do you know where it is?" Grimmjow asked, and she still appeared to be annoyed. She must be displeased that help was necessary.

"Yes," was his answer, chuckling at her irritation, but at her expectant look, he continued. "The Throat of the World is right there," he pointed to the altitudinous mountain in the distance, "and Ivarstead is behind it."

She nodded, her eyes watching the Throat of the World. For a fleeting moment, he had the strong urge to touch her, but with a stunned expression, he pushed that thought away with a vengeance. He refused to involve himself with someone so intimately. It would end badly for the both of them, with the trouble he stirred up in Helgen a few weeks ago, and she did not even know who he was. He knew that the latter could be remedied if he actually told her, but that was something he had not the courage to do. He had hidden himself for a reason, so he shall not ruin his safety, and hers.

They continued in silence for a while, until the smell of people reached his nose. He swiftly yanked his hood and mask over his head, his orange hair disappearing as if it was never there. Grimmjow stared at him with wide eyes, looking up and down the air behind his back, probably trying to figure out where his hair had gone.

"It is a simple illusion spell," was all he said, giving Grimmjow a pointed look through his veil. She quickly followed his lead, pulling up her hood and pulling up her facemask. Her hair promptly vanished just as his did, but she left her eyes uncovered.

"Why did we put our masks up?" she asked, and he mentally berated himself; he did not remember she did not have his advanced senses.

"There is people up ahead, and it would be troublesome if one could recognize us by our faces," he answered.

There was a pause where she tried to look ahead and spot them, but he knew her effort would be fruitless. The smell had drifted from a long distance away and he could tell there were many up ahead, but from the lacking smell of fur and mead, he could tell they were not bandits. But, being careless did not keep him alive this long, so he had put his mask on and had directed Grimmjow to do the same.

"I don't see anything," was her predictable statement.

"Trust me," he said, looking at her in a sideways glance.

Grimmjow appeared reluctant to stop her questioning, but he was already continuing on without looking back to see if she was following. He heard her footsteps fall in behind him as they walked, and silence took them over once more.

Eventually, they passed the destroyed city of Helgen, and their silence became tense, but for different reasons. He felt anger bubble in his stomach before a certain satisfaction washed over him, but he could smell Grimmjow's disquiet and caution.

The sun was now lost behind the mountains, enveloping the lands with a curtain of darkness, stars twinkling in the sky above. They were downwind from the scent now, and it was growing stronger with every step they took up the mountain. The smell of smoke and horse feces were apparent now, and he scrunched his nose in distaste. "We are close," he told Grimmjow.

"Where are they?" she asked, looking around.

"Off to the left of the path, just up ahead," he answered, taking care to make is steps silent. He silently thanked her for not asking him how he knew. Picking up the pace, he moved to the left side of the path with Grimmjow on his heels.

"There is a lot of them…" he murmured, stopping and spying up the hill. There were a few tents perched on the top, but from what he could see, that was not all of them.

Sudden movement caught his eye, but he did not move. He was well hidden behind the foliage at the bottom of the hill, so he was sure that the person would pass him by. Grimmjow, however, tensed, ducked, and darted behind a bush to take better cover. He rolled his eyes beneath his mask, eyeing the person he had spotted.

They were dressed in Stormcloak armor, a sword at their hip and a torch in their hand to light the darkening day. "This is a Stormcloak camp," he spoke, glancing over at Grimmjow who was rising from her hiding spot to creep over to him. "Scared?" he smirked, but she could not see it.

Grimmjow scowled, but did not deny it. It was something that made his smirk widen. "How are you so calm?" she hissed in an accusing tone.

He raised a finger to his lips, his eyes glittering with a mirth she could not see. Bless her soul, she had no idea who she was dealing with. "'Tis a secret," he answered, before he took up a crouch and began creeping up the hill.

"W-What are you – "

He raised his hand, and she immediately quieted. He crouched as close as possible to a tent, and the night shift guard passed him without even a glance in his direction. Feeling a little reckless, he followed behind he guard, mocking his strut right behind the man. His steps were soundless, so the man had no idea.

His sensitive hearing picked up a muffled snort down the hill, and he smirked. He gave the man one last glance before he swiftly and silently slipped inside a tent, crouching over a sleeping Stormcloak man. Rummaging through a sack beside the man, he snatched the coin purse and peered outside the tent, making sure the coast was clear before he snuck inside another.

After raiding all the tents, he mentally snickered when he thought of the angry faces of the soldiers when they woke up in the morning. '_That poor man,_' he glanced over at the guard who was still patrolling the camp, completely clueless to what was going on. '_He will be in a world of hurt by morning._'

He hid behind a tree at the edge of the camp, looking back down the hill to meet amused blue eyes, the woman standing, hidden by the bushes. He gestured for her to come to him, and she did so without question. Her steps were heard clear in his ears, but he knew that with the sounds of the wildlife and the rustle of the trees by the wind, they would surely keep her tread unheard.

"What?" she asked, laughter in her voice, and he found himself proud that he put it there.

"Shall we steal their horses?" he asked, pulling down his mask and veil to reveal his mischievous grin. He would never admit to such, but he realized that completing contracts and even traveling is more enjoyable with a partner, especially since they could mess with those they found during their journeys. It was always protocol to complete contracts by oneself, to ensure their safety. With a partner, you had to look out for each other, and that was a great weakness when trying to keep your presence unknown or escaping from authorities or witnesses. He was unable to fathom why he volunteered to accompany Grimmjow, but he was certain he wanted to spend time with her, which was strange. In his lifetime, he was a social creature, yes, but he never actively sought out someone simply because he enjoyed their company.

Grimmjow stared at him for a moment, pulled down her mask, before she mimicked his grin, showing pearly white teeth. "Now you're talking!"

He pulled up his mask once more, but left his eyes unveiled, his golden eyes glowing in the night. He watched the guard slip around a tent, out of sight, before he was darting across the camp without a sound. Grimmjow's footfalls fell in behind him, and they were soon standing by a post on which the horses were tied. They were asleep, their big heads bowed, but their ears twitched when the faint noise of the knots being untied were heard.

He had chosen a brown stallion, where he saw Grimmjow choose a grey and white spotted mare. He moved to the side and pulled on the reins, and the horse slowly rose its head. It snorted, shaking its head and shifting on its hooves. It regarded him for a moment, before he was tugging on the reins once more and the horse followed after him. Not even checking to see if Grimmjow was following him, because he knew she was, and started to guide the horse into the trees.

When they were far enough away, he jumped up and straddled the horse, seating himself onto the saddle. He flicked the reins, and the horse was galloping down the hill and onto the path. Grimmjow soon caught up with him, and she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Her laughter rang out like bells through the air, and he found himself chuckling in return.

"Imagine the looks on their faces when they see that their horses are stolen!" Grimmjow laughed.

"And their money," he grinned, pulling down his mask, and pulled out a large pouch that jingled and clanked with the movements of the horses.

Grimmjow's eyes went wide as she took in the pouch of money before she burst out laughing again. "That guard is going to get it in the morning. They're broke, and some of their horses are gone!"

"Poor Nords. They will have to go a few nights without their mead!" he sang in an exaggerated tone, placing a hand over his heart for his theatrics.

Grimmjow giggled. "Good riddance. Skyrim's air needs some freshening."

At that, he chuckled, letting them fall into a comfortable silence.

"You know," Grimmjow started, and he turned to meet her eyes, suddenly brave, "this is a lot of fun. I thought you were just going to lecture me the whole trip," she grinned.

"What made you think that?" he asked, slightly indignant.

"You were a lot colder at the Sanctuary. You had this 'mightier than thou' air about you," she informed him unflinchingly.

'_So straightforward,_' he mused. "Ah, well, in that environment, I have to keep up that appearance," he found himself saying, surprised at his truthfulness. Usually he could spill lies to a person without missing a beat, but for some reason, this woman was like a truth serum.

"Why?" Grimmjow asked, her eyes showing their interest.

"It is a long story," he sighed.

"Well, as you can see, we have time."

He sighed again, leaning his head back to look at the stars, his eyes distant in his memories. "It began back when I was an initiate in the Brotherhood. Everything was in chaos. Order was lost and everything was slipping. Sanctuaries across Tamriel were being destroyed with no survivors, so the remaining ones were obviously desperate for new recruits. It was survival of the fittest at that time, so we had no time to be soft. A lot of the initiates were sent to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary in Cyrodiil, because of a devastating war down there. They were sent to help protect it, for that was where the Listener resided – "

"What's a Listener?" Grimmjow interrupted, startling him from his stupor.

"O-Oh, the Listener is essentially the leader of the guild, who takes contracts from the Night Mother and relays them to the Speakers."

"Okay, now I'm lost. Who's the Night Mother?" she asked. "You mentioned that earlier but…"

"You joined the Family unknowing of the Night Mother?" he asked incredulously. "She is called the Blood Flower, the Lady Death, the Unholy Matron. She has many names, but who she is stands true. She takes the requests from those who pray to her, those who desire one's death, and convey them to her Listener."

"You said something about the Listener being the leader, but you're the leader, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am," he answered, nodding. "But, I am not the Listener. There has been no Listener for ages."

"What happened to the last one?"

"If you had not interrupted me, I would have told you," he said, throwing a look her way, but it held no heat. She has the courtesy to look sheepish, gesturing with her hand to continue.

"As I was saying," he began, a small smile finding its way to his lips at her antics, "The initiates were sent to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary to assist their Brothers and Sisters in protecting it. The Listener resided there, making that Sanctuary the top priority. But, it was to no avail when the Lucky Old Lady statue was destroyed in Bravil. You see, that was where the Night Mother resided in her crypt underneath it. The Listener, I believe her name was Alisanne Dupre, went with two others to guard the Night Mother. Alisanne was killed, as was another, but the last managed to safely return the Night Mother's coffin to the Sanctuary to her Keeper," he gave her another look, cutting her off as she opened her mouth. "The Keeper is the protector of the Night Mother," he smirked as she blushed.

"What happened to the rest? You said initiates were sent to help protect – "

"They were still just initiates. They had no experience; they were still trying to figure things out, making them easy targets. A lot of them were killed when out on contracts, leaving the Cheydinhal Sanctuary quite vulnerable. Eventually, all were killed and that Sanctuary was destroyed, leaving the Falkreath Sanctuary the last one still operating in all of Tamriel."

"What about the Night Mother and her Keeper?"

"The Keeper managed to escape, with the Night Mother. Remember, I told you of their impending arrival to the Sanctuary," he reminded her.

"Oh! Yes, I do now, but I didn't feel like asking who they were at the time," she grinned, looking sheepish again.

"You can always ask me anything if you are confused," he promised, and she was nodding to him gratefully, albeit taken aback.

"You didn't tell me how that story affects how you act to this day," she said.

"Ah, well… I cannot say that those happenings were what influenced that behavior," he said.

"Then what did?"

"I was a cold, ruthless man at the time, and I cannot tell you that it was entirely acting. I was aiming for the top, to be the leader of the Brotherhood, and maybe the destruction was my opening. I rose through the ranks rather quickly, and became one of the four Speakers. There was no Listener, but we had a leader. Her name was Astrid. She came to power not through kindness, mind you, but by getting things done. With no Listener, we had to get contracts by rumors. The people still believed in the Black Sacrament, and we had no intention of relieving them of their faith. Astrid was fine for a time, but she was rather inept at protecting the Family. So, by unanimous request, I killed her," he continued on.

Grimmjow blinked owlishly. "Wow, you're not afraid that'll happen to you?"

He laughed, finally, a good long laugh. "Yes, I most certainly do," he answered, trying to quiet his chuckles. "Well, I do not particularly fear it, but there is always that worry in the back of my mind. I consider myself a lot more competent than Astrid, to tell you the truth, but there is always those who will find a reason to despise you."

"Have you faced any treachery yet?" she asked.

"No, I have not. But, you must always consider every possible scenario, correct?"

"I guess…" she mumbled, looking uncertain.

"Anyways, so I killed her, became leader, end of story. They know me as that merciless persona, and I plan on living up to that expectation."

"Sounds like a sad life to me, living under a mask," she mumbled, but he caught it anyway.

"I do not need your pity, Grimmjow," he said. "I never said I was tired of it, did I? No, actually I quite enjoy it. Being the silent and feared leader is preferable."

"Why?"

"No one knows who you are, but everyone knows you are a force to be reckoned with. The air of mystery suits an assassin such as me."

"No one knows who you are?" Grimmjow wonders.

"No."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

"Not even your real name?" she asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

"No," he shakes his head in the negative. "I adopted the name Zangetsu when I first joined the Brotherhood, and no one even knew it was fake. Not even you suspected so until I told you. But, I suppose Zangetsu is my name now, since I have no plans to tell anyone my real one."

"Why do you hide yourself?" she asked, almost looking offended, and he was put off by the expression.

"Circumstances," came his vague answer, still attempting to figure out that look on her face.

"Which are…?" she prompted. He had been honest with her so far, so why should this be any different?

"…"

"Won't you tell me?"

"I refuse."

"Huh?" she was dumbfounded.

"It is something for me to know, and that is final," he stated, trying to not take out his anger on her. His anger had flared not because of her, but because of the memories her questions brought about.

"Why can't you tell me?" she pressed.

Irritation was beginning to boil in his chest. "Have you not thought that I simply do not wish to speak of it? Besides, I have spoken of my past endeavors, but I have heard none of yours," he tried to change the subject, and he knew she caught it, but it was up to her if she took the bait and saved herself from his temper.

"Uh, well…"

He almost sighed in relief. She took the bait. He did not think he could control himself if she pushed him again.

"I come from Valenwood…" she started; she seemed to try and collect her thoughts.

He was suddenly curious in what she had to say, because most Bosmer do not willingly leave their homeland. They preferred their simple life in the wilderness, so why come to a province ridden by war? As far as he knew, Valenwood was at peace, safe from the petty battles of the Nords, so… why? But he kept silent, prepared to give her time to speak.

"I lived in the region of Malabal Tor, in the graht-oak Falinesti. Born and raised there, actually. I grew up swinging in its vines and climbing its branches. We were at peace, still are I believe, so I never learned the ways of the bow or sword from my parents. I never even thought of the world that existed outside of Falinesti. I never left the city, never even thought about it, until one day, Falinesti stopped walking. We weren't worried, but we did think it strange. It was forgotten as time passed and we continued on with our daily lives, until some started to make the extremely long climb down the tree. Though they didn't come back for a long time, some did come back, while others didn't. They had whispers of information to give us, just enough to spark my horrid curiosity. One of my friends used to say I act more Khajiit than Bosmer," she laughed. "I started asking questions, some that no one dared to ask. Our society didn't care much for the world outside of Valenwood, so some of the questions they couldn't answer. I wasn't deterred though, so I started wondering about the lands beyond our graht-oak. It soon turned into a desire to explore and find out myself, and then I was packing my things and leaving."

"Have you enjoyed your travels?" he asked, wondering. He may have left Skyrim a few times to travel, but that was a long time ago.

"Definitely! When I left Falinesti, I started with exploring all of Valenwood. It was amazing! I went to all the major cities, but my favorite had to be Arenthia. It was a very big settlement, full of Imperials, Khajiits, and Bosmer. It was a big cultural shock, being around the different races, even with my fellow mer, since they'd never lived in a graht-oak. I learned a lot of knew things," she said.

"Arenthia is a dangerous place, is it not? I thought that the city was often raided."

"It is, but nothing happened while I was there. I was able to enjoy my stay."

"Hmm," he hummed in acknowledgement. "I know you did not stop at Valenwood, so where did you go next? You had to have gotten to Skyrim somehow," he said.

"Well, after I had my fill of my homeland, I went north to Cyrodiil. The province was still recovering from the Great War, so people were still wary of newcomers. I stopped at Skingrad first, but when they saw I was only a traveling Bosmer, they warmed up to me. I didn't stay long though, moving to the city of Kvatch, then Anvil, before I was going farther north into Hammerfell. I went to Rihad, Taneth, and then Elinhir. I wanted to circle back around to Dragonstar, but I guess I accidentally crossed the border into Skyrim, and that was when I was ambushed by the Imperials. I was taken completely by surprise. I was by myself, and I had no idea that a Stormcloak camp was just nearby. They had the camp completely surrounded and they were outnumbered, and we were taken down easily. I had tried to run, but I miscalculated exactly how many soldiers there were. They knocked me unconscious and then I woke up in a caravan as a prisoner."

"What happened after that?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Apparently, a man that was called Ulfric Stormcloak was with us, and a man—I think his name was Lokir—started freaking out. He started yelling about how if Ulfric was with us, we were definitely going to die. It didn't even fully sink in until they were calling me up to the block to be executed. Things started getting really… _weird_… after that."

He raised a pseudo-questioning brow. "What happened?"

"I was about to be decapitated, but then, a – uh, dragon attacked Helgen."

"A dragon? I thought they disappeared a long time ago," he decided to play it up a little.

"I'm not lying! It was black with a white mask, with red markings on the left side of it. It was awesome, but sort of terrifying. I thought I was going to die."

'_Awesome?_' he nearly laughed out loud. Not many look into the face of a dragon and thought it was awesome. He decided he definitely liked this woman now.

"Then I escaped with the help of a Stormcloak soldier. I was exhausted by the time it we were in Riverwood, a little town the Stormcloak—Ralof—told me about that wasn't far from Helgen," she sighed. "The rest you probably already know."

"Going to Windhelm and helping the Aretino boy?" he questioned.

She nodded. "That's where I am now, so now will you tell me?" she asked determinedly.

"No," he answered, sighing. Did she not know when to give up?

"Why not?" Was that a pout?

"Are you pouting?"

"No!"

"Yes you are," he grinned, reaching over to poke her pouty lips.

She blushed, smacking his hand away. "W-Well, if you would tell me – "

"Why is it so important?"

His question made her still and her blush fade away slightly. "What if I told you that Grimmjow wasn't my real name? Curiosity would eat you up too, wouldn't it?"

'_Hm._' She was answering a question with a question. She was avoiding the real reason. "Good point, I would be curious, but not to this extent. Tell me the real reason."

She blushed again, averting her eyes. She remained silent.

He raised an eyebrow, perplexed. Was she embarrassed to tell him? He could not think of a reason to be embarrassed… Oh. _Oh._

He smirked, letting his eyes glow faintly in the moonlight, the golden irises smoldering as he looked at her. "Something you need to tell me?" he purred.

Grimmjow went from pink to red in a matter of seconds, her pupils dilating. He could practically smell the want on her now, but he knew he could not pursue her. Even if he acknowledged that she was the most beautiful mortal he had ever laid eyes on. That was just the problem; she was a mortal. If he took her, she would be gone in a blink of an eye, such was the short lifespans of men. Although elves tended to live around 200 years, that was a short time in comparison to his never-ending life.

"N-No," she stuttered. Some teasing would not hurt her, would it?

He pulled down his hood, and his hair reappeared into view, the length of it settling upon the horse's back and flowing over to dangle towards the ground. "You are lying to me, _Grimmjow,_" he said, his predatory grin slipping onto his face as his sharp eyes caught the shiver rack her body when he called her name.

"S-Sh-Shut up!" she yelled, flinging her arm out to strike him, but her hand was caught, and she struggled to pull it back.

He let his grin fall as he held her thin fingers, his big hands dwarfing her own. She stopped struggling for a moment to see what he was doing, only to freeze when her embarrassed blue orbs met his intense gaze. His lips touched the back of her hand and his eyes fell shut, and unbeknownst to her, it was his silent apology.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: There's more action in the next chapter, so, see you then!**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**- Shiro -**


	9. First Contract

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Skyrim._**

**Summary:**** The men, mer, and beastfolk of Skyrim were taught that the dragons vanished with the end of the Dragon War. No one had seen a dragon for a millennium, so why does one appear during Grimmjow's execution? The villains of their legends are back, but what if they were not as evil as they thought?**

**xXxXx**

They arrived to Ivarstead before dawn. The only light from the small town came from the torches that the guards held as they made their patrols down the empty streets, or the faint glow from the hearth inside what she assumed was an inn. The sky was clear of clouds, so they were able to rely on the light the moon provided.

The air was crisp and frost was coating the grasses. Chilling breezes drifted down the Throat of the World's tall peaks. Zangetsu leapt off his horse as they entered the town, leading the stallion towards the inn by its reins, and Grimmjow followed suit. They tied their horses to the posts outside the inn, and Grimmjow made to climb the stairs, for she desperately wished to get out of the cold, but Zangetsu's voice stopped her.

He had climbed the stairs after her, so he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Let us find the target first, then we will come back and rest."

Grimmjow threw him a questioning look, but he was already turning around to go back down the stairs. She reached into the many hidden pockets of her armor, pulling out the information on their target. His name was Narfi, a beggar, so he should not be too hard to find since he had no home they had to break into.

"Why can't we find him later?" Grimmjow found herself asking, almost grumbling.

"Personally, I like to find the target, observe them, and kill them when it is most convenient," it was explained so nonchalantly, it made her shiver.

"When it's 'most convenient'? You mean when you won't be caught?"

"Exactly. I do not fancy paying off a bounty or rotting in a jail cell."

"So getting caught is forbidden?" she asked, feeling foolish for even asking.

He sent her a sideways glance. "No. Contracts are to be fulfilled by any means necessary, whether it be on the hush or public. I just prefer it to be on the down low. I usually take them out at night in their homes, when they are sleeping, and by the time they find the body in the morning, I am long gone."

"So you sometimes do them publicly?" she asked with interest.

"Sometimes, but those are planned meticulously. I have never been caught, and probably never will be."

It was spoken not with arrogance, but with a self-confidence most do not have. It was a trait that she found undeniably attractive.

Grimmjow had come to terms with her feelings over the course of their trip to Ivarstead. After they had shared their pasts, they had ridden in silence. It had given her plenty of time to think, and think she did. Even if she knew nothing about him, since apparently, he had himself under wraps in the entire duration of his time in the Brotherhood. He had refused to tell her his name, his real name, so she had no choice but to keep referring to him as Zangetsu.

She was certain he knew that the curiosity would kill her. She had told him that she was horribly curious, and then he went on and told her that not one person knew a thing about him. Grimmjow was also certain that this was not true. He had been with the Brotherhood for many years now, so someone had to know something, right? She planned on asking around the Brothers and Sisters when they returned to the Sanctuary, but she did not know how long until that would be. So, until then, she would be forced to suffer in silence.

Grimmjow had already given up on questioning Zangetsu himself. Trying to get him to give over information was like trying to assault a brick wall. She probably would have admired that about him if she were not the victim of his stubborn nature.

Sighing, she glanced over at Zangetsu. Despite her the meager opportunity to find anything out, because she was beginning to doubt that the Family would know much, she liked him. She enjoyed his company, which is a lot to be said when he is a mysterious man that leads a cultist guild of assassins. Plus, she could not deny that he was gorgeous, like a god in human flesh. Grimmjow almost laughed at that. '_You're getting in a little too deep, don't you think?_'

"Grimmjow?"

Startled, she jumped. "W-What?" she stuttered.

"I have attempted to get your attention a few times, but you were just staring off into space."

Blushing, she scowled. "Well, what is it then?" she snapped.

Zangetsu blinked, but did not comment on her annoyance. "I wanted to investigate a place across the waters, but you were kind of walking in a trance. I did not wish for you to drown."

Now it was Grimmjow's turn to blink. '_Drown?_'

Turning, she took in her surroundings for the first time. They were standing a few feet from the banks of a river, but they were foaming white from the rushing rapids. Although the current looked like it could rip you off your feet, it did not appear to be that deep. Across the river looked like a destroyed farmhouse, with no roof and little remaining of the walls. She could see a hardly noticeable glow coming from the ruins, telltale signs of a fire.

"An ideal place for a beggar to live, no?" came Zangetsu's voice.

She nodded, eyeing the river that blocked their path. Then, without further ado, Zangetsu started walking down to the banks until he stood at the edge of the water, with Grimmjow following behind him.

"It does not look to be that deep…" she heard Zangetsu mumble next to her. He shrugged and stepped in, the water coming up to his ankles, and he walked across without a hitch. Grimmjow stepped in after him, but almost forgot that her legs were not nearly as long as his. The water came up to her mid-calf, so she had to pick up her feet and practically prance across the creek to avoid being tripped.

By the time they were both on the other bank, Grimmjow was swearing at her cold, wet feet, and Zangetsu was chuckling at her misfortune. They turned around, taking in the small house—or, what once was a house. The sun was breaking over the horizon now, but the Throat of the World cast a shadow over the village, keeping the darkness for a while longer.

"Shall we?" Zangetsu muttered, and they walked around to find the 'entrance' to the ruins, but were surprised to see that a man was already standing in the grass a few feet in front of them, staring up at the Throat of the World.

"Um…" Grimmjow called out, unsure of what to say, but the man just turned to her, his eyes wide and insane.

"I can't see you, Reyda! I can't find you! Why are you hiding? Hiding, hide, hide, hide! Don't make me sad!" he cried.

Grimmjow flinched, lifting her arm to reach out to the man, but Zangetsu's hand on her shoulder had her dropping it back to her side. "Are you okay?"

"Reyda was here, then gone. Went to gather plants and never came home… nope, nope," he rushed out. "Everyone looked and no one could find her. Wilhelm said she'll come back… told Narfi not to worry… Reyda will come back."

'_Narfi? This is Narfi?_' Grimmjow grimaced, and the man did not seem to notice.

"What is wrong with you?" Zangetsu asked from behind her.

"With father I said goodbye… with mother I said goodbye. Reyda leaves and Narfi can't say goodbye. Makes Narfi very, very sad. Narfi needs Reyda to say goodbye," he rambled on, his eyes twitching back and forth between Zangetsu and herself.

A hand tugged on her shoulder, and then she was turning to look back at Zangetsu. "We need to go. We know where he is now," he muttered, his eyes glancing back at Narfi.

"Yeah," she agreed, following Zangetsu back around the house from where they came.

"I-If you see Reyda, tell her Narfi misses her and to come home soon!" the man yelled after them.

Once they were back across the creek, Zangetsu shook his head. "What a sad man… I guess I know why someone put a contract on him now," he muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"They probably wanted to put him out of his misery," he sighed.

"True," she huffed. "I pity him for his naiveté."

"Agreed," he said. "Let us head to the inn."

Walking back around the houses and into the main street, they were on the doorstep of the Vilemyr Inn in a matter of minutes. They entered, the building already lit with a fire in the hearth. The only other person in the main room was the man behind the counter.

"That must be Wilhelm," Grimmjow said as Zangetsu hung back behind her, sitting down in a chair by the fireplace. '_Probably trying to let me do things on my own,_' she mused.

"I'd like to rent a room," she said, reaching into her purse to take out ten coins, placing them on the counter so he could sweep them into his own purse.

"Alright, it's yours for a day," the man nodded, gesturing to a room to her right.

When she did not leave right away, Wilhelm raised a brow, so Grimmjow decided to just get on with it. "What's the story with Narfi?"

Wilhelm blinked, before he frowned. "Ah, he's harmless. He's been in a state ever since his sister Reyda disappeared over a year ago. He just keeps to himself in what's left of his folk's farmhouse across the river."

"You told Narfi she's coming back?" she asked, her brows furrowing.

"I just said that to make the poor guy feel better. I'm pretty sure she's dead. Reyda would gather ingredients from the small island in the river east from here. Then one day, she just vanished," he said. "I tried to look for her, but she never turned up," he shook his head sadly.

"Oh," she said, and she could feel Zangetsu's eyes on her back, like he could read her mind. "I-I'm sorry," was all she managed to say.

"Mhm," the man nodded, his frown still in place.

She turned away from Wilhelm, and headed to her room. She shut the door behind her, and relished in the privacy.

"You know," a voice started, and Grimmjow promptly jumped, groping for her sword, waving the weapon around, her mind focusing solely on finding the intruder.

Zangetsu was seated in a chair across the room, his hand over his mouth to stop his laughter, but his eyes shining with amusement gave him away.

"Stop doing that!" she yelled, swinging her sword around wildly, her face flushed with annoyance and embarrassment.

"But your fright is my amusement," he smirked, moving his hand to sit it down in his lap.

"Ugh," she groaned. "What do you want? I was hoping to actually get some sleep."

"What are you planning?"

Caught off guard, her eyes widened. "I – uh," she stuttered. Well, there was no use in trying to lie now, she thought with annoyance. "I wanted to go find Reyda."

"I assumed as much," he sighed. "Do what you want."

"That's it?" she asked, skeptical.

"I could not care less about what you do. The target is not going anywhere, but I would like to kill him by tonight, so you better return before then."

"Ah, okay…"

"I thought I would catch you before you tried to sneak out of the inn," he said with a shrug of indifference. "That is all I have to say."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand dismissively, a blush rising up her neck at his nonchalant accusation. "Wake me up in a few hours," she walked over to the bed, flopping down onto the straw mattress after removing her weapons, and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

**xXxXx**

"Grimmjow."

She groaned, rolling back over. "… go away…" she mumbled into the pillow.

"Get up, this is the last warning."

When a few moments passed and Grimmjow was still snoring into her pillow, she was promptly rolled onto the floor.

Grimmjow yelped, thrashing on the ground awkwardly for a moment as the haze of sleep dissipated. She looked around, noticing Zangetsu standing over her bed with the mattress tipped sideways.

"What did you do that for?!" she yelled, getting up to her feet when she noticed she was still sprawled on the floor. Her fingers twitched to wrap around his neck and strangle him.

He only raised a brow in a mocking manner. "You refused to wake," he smirked.

"You couldn't have just shook me awake or something…?" she grumbled under her breath, but he heard her anyways.

"Where is the fun in that?" came his remark, his smirk widening.

"You little – !"

She was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. "What's going on in there? Keep it down!" It was Wilhelm.

Grimmjow sighed, rubbing her temples with the heels of her hands. "You shut up," she growled at Zangetsu.

He only grinned, his hands up in the universal sign of peace, which only infuriated her further. She managed to take a deep breath, swallowing the curses she wanted to fling at him.

"I'm going to look for Reyda. I'll be back by nightfall," she said, returning her bow, quiver, and sword to their places on her person.

"I will be here," he said, nodding. "See you then."

Taking her leave, she went over to the counter. Wilhelm was leaning against the surface, looking elsewhere, but he turned at her approach.

Before he could speak, she quickly questioned, "Anything dangerous on that small island to the east?"

He stared at her for a moment. "You're the one that was wondering about Narfi yesterday?" he wondered aloud. "I've seen some sort of a cave entrance over there. Folks call it 'Geirmund's Hall,' but I don't know why. Probably best if you avoid it for now… It didn't seem to do Reyda any good."

She nodded, but turned and left the tavern. She took a left and walked behind the building, until she was on the banks of the river. In the distance was the island, so she followed the banks. At some point, the river turned to wrap around the landmass, so she was forced to swim across the waters to get to it.

When she reached the isle, she was sopping wet and shivering. She preferred to not use magic, even if she was a Bosmer, but she also liked to be dry and warm. Calling on her magicka was a quite the task, but she eventually managed, and the palms of her hands burst with flames. They were not much, but for her purposes they would do nicely. She ran the fire all across her body, drying the leather easily and warming the skin underneath. She had to hold off on drying her hair, since she did not fancy lighting her hair on fire, so she took down her braid and pulled the locks up into a bun.

Once she was sure she was not going to get frostbite, she looked around. The island was small, so small that you could see the other side of it from where she stood. But there was a tall rock formation off to her right, and at its base was the cave entrance Wilhelm told her about: Geirmund's Hall.

Wandering over, she peered into the cave, but the sunlight could only reach so far. She could see hints of the passage opening into a cavern, thanks to the abundance of glowing mushrooms growing on the walls, lighting the space somewhat.

Grimmjow crept inside, her hand on the hilt of her sword just in case. If Reyda had been murdered here, it would be wise to prepare herself. Just as she suspected, the tunnel opened into a wide space, but from in the threshold, it looked to be a dead end.

Confusion washed over her. Wilhelm had told her to be careful of an empty cave? Something was not right. She clambered down the unsteady rocks, down to the floor of the cavern. She looked around for a doorway or something, anything like Bleak Falls Barrow. But there were none, suspiciously so.

But, another thing caught her eye. A leg; a human leg. She cautiously walked over to where it lay, but she soon found it was an entire body wedged in between two boulders. She checked for a pulse, but the person was already dead. It was a man clothed in studded armor, but he appeared to have no weapons.

'_An adventurer, maybe?_'

She found a rucksack a few feet away, laying in a pile of rocks. Searching it, she found a heavy coin purse, a book titled 'Lost Legends', a healing potion, and a minor healing potion. It looked like she was right about this man being an adventurer, but why would he come exploring in here? Was it not just a cave? Something was not adding up.

She slung the rucksack over her shoulder, careful of her bow, the glass bottles clanking and the coin purse jingling. She walked around, searching for more corpses just in case, but as concentrated as she was, she stumbled over a rock. Grimmjow caught herself though, swearing under her breath, but when she looked in front of her, her eyes widened.

There was a hole, easily big enough for a body to fall through. If she had not caught herself or had taken another step, she would have fallen down there. It was nestled behind a column, so it was no wonder she did not see it at first. Grimmjow peered down into it, and all she could see was murky, black water some distance down.

'_So this is a barrow,_' she thought. '_It's probably swarming with draugr down there,_' she grimaced.

So Geirmund's Hall was no joke, after all. But Wilhelm had mentioned that Reyda only came around this island to gather ingredients, so she would not be going down here, would she? Besides, this hole appears to be a one-way entrance, so there was no way of getting out unless Reyda traveled the entire barrow, which was unlikely.

Grimmjow almost sagged in relief. She was glad she would not have to go down into another barrow. Bleak Falls Barrow instilled some rather… _undesirable _memories. Even if she was sure there were no dragons down there—now _that _would be awkward—draugr were a type of enemy that she preferred to not tangle with. They were mindless and attacked in groups if you were reckless enough to charge right through their crypts, and if you were alone you were at an even greater disadvantage.

'_I'm guessing Reyda's body will be somewhere on the island, then._'

She pulled the knapsack higher on her shoulder, climbing back up the slope of rocks, which was harder than it looked while trying to balance all her weapons and the pack, and trying to balance on the foot holds.

When she finally was walking back out of the tunnel, she was cursing loudly, her swears probably echoing out into Ivarstead, but she could not find it in herself to care.

The sunlight blinded her for a moment when she stepped outside, the sun at its peak. It must have been around noon. Now it was time for her to search the island.

Her mind wandered as she looked, wondering what possibly could have happened to Narfi's sister. Was she killed by a bear? A sabre cat? But neither of those were apparent here, otherwise she would have been attacked by now. Could a draugr have wandered out of the barrow and killed her? No, that was not possible, since the only entrance she knew of was the hole, and they certainly were not going to be flying out of there. Was it bandits? But bandits are not stupid enough to attack this close to town, are they? There were too many possibilities, and all of them lead to a dead end. She supposed it did not matter what happened to her, because she only had to find the remains, but it was harmless to wonder.

There were not many trees on the island, so it was mostly open space that she could search just by visuals. The only places that she had to search thoroughly were the areas around Geirmund's Hall, but she found no corpse, not even a glimpse. A few times she thought that she found it, but it always turned out to be a dead rabbit or deer.

Frustrated at her lack of success, she turned to the river around the island. It was the most likely place she would be, but Grimmjow really did not want to go back into the water. She had already dived in there once, but she knew she was going to have to swim back to Ivarstead at some point, so she might as well get it over with. She had already circled the island a few times, so now she was back to the bank where she came from.

Glad that she was alone on the island, she pulled off the rucksack and set it down on the clean grass, followed by her bow, quiver, and sword, laying them in a neat pile a few feet away from the muddy banks. She pulled her hair down as she went down to the water, tying the ribbon on her wrist before she was wading into the freezing water.

The air was sucked out of her lungs as the water rose over her abdomen, and she was aware that her fingers and toes were already numb. With one final push, she took a deep inhale, and dunked her head under the surface, opening her eyes to dart around. It was difficult to see things in her blurry visage except for the silhouettes of plants, and soon she was kicking back up, taking in gulps of air.

Grimmjow sighed, her limbs convulsing as she shivered. She took another deep breath, and dove back down into the murky depths. She kicked her feet, swimming down until she was hovering above the muddy bottom. She forced her arms and legs to move, propelling her through the icy abandon until sharp jolts of pain were shooting up the limbs, like hundreds of needles were sinking into her at once.

Still she swam, her eyes open wide, when a flash of gold blinked in her peripherals. She slowly went towards it, having lost her tiring force from moments earlier. Her lungs were crying out for oxygen, but she continued on even if her throat and chest were on fire.

As it turned out, it was a gold coin. She could tell by its circular shape and when it flashed in the sunlight. She tried to survey the area around it, but the burning sensation in her chest was spreading to her arms and legs, and it was becoming unbearable. It felt like she was being burnt from the inside-out.

Finally giving in, she used the last of her strength to push herself off the bottom of the river and reach the surface. This time, she had to stay above the water for a few minutes as she coughed and hacked, her throat dry and scratchy as she gasped for air.

She was no longer shivering, and alarm bells were starting to go off in her head. Minor cases of hypothermia were when you started to shiver, but they were more severe when you _stopped _shivering. Swearing, she dove back down again, hoping she did not drift too far away from where she found that gold coin.

It took her only a moment to find that flash of gold again, and with her newly replenished air supply, she was determined to see if it came from a purse, and maybe that meant a corpse.

The Lucky Old Lady must have been on her side that day, because she spotted something—something that looked like a skeleton—only a few feet away. She swam over, scanning the bones for a pouch, a purse, a pack, anything. She suppressed a triumphant grin that threatened to spread across her face when she saw the pouch lying beside a hipbone. She snatched it, and kicked her way to the surface once more. She placed the cloth of the bag in her mouth, so she could use both hands to swim back to the island.

She had to drag herself back onto the shore, her entire body screaming in pain, and she bit into her lips to keep herself from crying out as she forced herself to her feet. Grimmjow did not bother to dry herself, since she knew she was just going back in the water, but the wind bit into her skin with a vengeance. With blue, trembling hands, she put her weapons back to their place on her person, tucked the pouch she found in the river into the rucksack, and slung the pack over her shoulder.

Grimmjow stumbled back over to the river, slipped into the water, and practically drifted to the opposite banks, too exhausted to swim. She did not know how she managed to get to her feet, or find her way back to the doors of the Vilemyr Inn, but when she opened the door, the heat was searing. The blood returning to her body was painful, excruciatingly so, and suddenly there were voices all around her, and like a startled deer, she staggered back to her rented room, focused solely on curling up in the bed.

But when she slammed the door open, she was too out of it to even notice that Zangetsu was half-dressed in just his trousers, and she only even registered his presence when a soothing warmth—his hand—settled onto her shoulder.

"Dear Gods, Grimmjow, your lips are blue! And you are soaking wet!" he exclaimed, but she was too tired to even pay any heed to his words, but his voice was like a balm over her pained body.

She leaned into that hand, but only ended up nearly tipping over. His other hand came onto her other arm as they steadied her, and he seemed to know what she needed. He took her hand, and she gripped it tightly, which was probably only a weak squeeze. He lead her over to the bed after shutting the door and locking it, gently sat her down, her stiff body limp as she slumped on the mattress.

She was aware of his eyes watching hers as he reached up on her shoulders, pulling off her bow, quiver, and her pack. He set them to the side, and then he untied the sword from her hip and sat it down also. He met her eyes, even if they were probably clouded over like a drunk, and reached up to unfasten the straps that held the armor together. He pulled the black leather apart, and then raised her arm up one after the other to pull them out of the sleeves. He did not stare, and she knew that later she would be grateful.

Zangetsu went on to kneel in front of her, pulling off her boots, and setting them aside. He reached up to place a heated hand on her shoulder, pushing her down until she was lying on her back. He swiftly removed the entire one-piece, leaving her only in her fur undergarments that covered only the most intimate places. This was her trust in him laid bare, she trusted him to not take advantage of her vulnerable state. She was aware, yet she was not, like she was watching herself and Zangetsu from afar.

The bed sank under Zangetsu's weight as he crawled onto the bed, and all she could do was watch. She was sure that trusting him this much was unhealthy, but she could not help it, and even if she did not trust him, it was not as if she could defend herself. She was completely exhausted, her body weighted with fatigue. She was sure she could not even lift her arm to push him away.

But, all he did was gently pull her so she was laying properly on the bed, and rolled her over on her side so she was facing away from him. Grimmjow was almost afraid he had left, but then a blanket was draped over them and heat was pressed against her from behind. Strong arms wrapped around her, resting against her freezing stomach that tensed under his touch and then relaxed right after. His chin rested against the top of her head, and his chest warmed the skin of her back.

His hands began to wander, but not as one would think. They ran in circles around her abdomen, traced up and down her arms, and cradled her hands. It was only a span of a few minutes, but it felt like hours they laid there in each other's arms as blood flow slowly returned to Grimmjow's limbs and body, her body temperature rising back to the norm.

"What did you do?" Zangetsu laughed softly. "Did you go diving in the river?"

When silence overcame them again, and a flush started to creep up Grimmjow's neck, she did not have to turn and look to know of the incredulous expression on Zangetsu's face. For a few moments there was only his stunned silence, before his laugh rang out again, a little louder this time.

"You did?" she could hear the grin in his voice. "You idiot."

She growled, and tried to roll over so she could thrash him, but she only succeeded in getting onto her back when Zangetsu's gentle fingers took ahold of her chin. She immediately froze in her attempts to beat him senseless, his hand lifting her head until it was tilted upwards. She gasped when she met the golden eyes that she was fascinated with; they were so close. From here, she could see all of the flecks of the tints and shades of the gold, and they took her breath away.

Grimmjow did not even notice he had been leaning downwards, so lost she was in his golden orbs, that she was unprepared for the brush of his lips on hers. Momentarily she seized up, and he seemed to take that as a rejection, as he began to pull away. But before he got too far, she got ahold of herself, and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. She pulled him back down and kissed him firmly, and he instantly rolled over and pulled her on top of him.

Straddling his hips, she melted into him, sliding her hands up under his head and pulled his hair free of its tie. The locks flowed over the pillow and she buried her fingers into the silky strands, running her fingers through them. His hands came up and ran along her back, down to her hips, and back up again, leaving scorching lines of gooseflesh.

Their kiss was slow and sensual, and Grimmjow absently wondered how he became so good at kissing. He pulled back and suckled on her lower lip, and she moaned a quiet moan. He bit into it lightly, pulling, before he leaned back in to claim her mouth once more. A tongue darted out to swipe at her lower lip, asking for entrance, and she let her mouth open eagerly.

His tongue ran along hers, tangling with it, battling for dominance. She lost, but it was forgotten as he ran his muscle along her teeth and gums, as if he was mapping her mouth. For her, she was savoring the taste of him. He tasted sweet like the sweetest of moon sugar, and just as addicting, as she pulled back to suck on his tongue, and his guttural groan was her reward.

But all too soon, he pulled away, his eyes alight with an abnormal glow, and she was aware that she was still quite cold, and laid herself down on him, her head buried into the crook of his neck. His steady heartbeat thumped beneath her, and it began to lull her into sleep.

"That certainly warmed you up," she heard him murmur, and they both let out a breathless chuckle, and they slid into a deep slumber.

**xXxXx**

When she woke, she was aware of the comforting heat surrounding her, and nuzzled her face into a warm chest.

…Chest?

She slowly lifted her head, to come face to face with a shirtless, sleeping Zangetsu, and briefly panicked. Then the memories before she went to sleep came back to her, and she was suddenly flushed as red as a tomato.

"Oh gods," she muttered, and Zangetsu began to stir. His eyelids fluttered, and they opened, blinking. His arms tightened around her when she made to get up, and she looked up to meet his eyes that were still clouded with sleep. He smiled, slow and content, and her breath caught. He leaned down and planted a kiss on her lips, before he pulled away.

"Morning," he greeted, laying down on his back, his eyes blinking rapidly. A hand came up to rub at his eyes, and when he looked back down at her, his eyes were sharp and aware, but he still did not pull away.

"It's not morning," she smirked, relaxing. "I think it's nighttime."

He grinned, untangling his arms from around her waist, and sat up. She took the time to admire the cut muscles on his back that she could see through the strands of orange hair, and she absently ran her fingers through them, but she was wrenched from her admiring when he was speaking again.

"I suppose it is," he said, and looked back over his shoulder at her. "You gave me quite a scare earlier, when you came in looking like an icicle."

"Ah, about that," she lowered her eyes sheepishly. "I had to search the river for Reyda's remains."

"I hope your… _efforts _were fruitful."

She winced at his biting tone, realizing the extent of his worry. "They were, fortunately. I found a body and I took the spoils on it. They were in my rucksack."

"This?" he asked, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up, walking over to grab her pack from the floor.

"Yes," she took it from him when he handed it over, the bed sinking as he sat back down on it. She pulled the damp pack open, reaching inside to pull out what she found on the corpse. She unclipped the button on the pouch and pulled out the first item. It was a silver necklace, with a locket on the chain. She wrenched the thing open, and she pulled a folded piece of parchment out of it. Unfolding it, she was greeted by a detailed drawing of a family.

It was blurred a bit by being submerged in water for such a long time, but it was easy enough to make out a picture of a family. But what she really noticed, was a younger Narfi standing behind a young woman.

"This has to be Reyda's," she said, holding up the picture to Zangetsu so he could see it.

Humming in acknowledgement, he scanned the paper. "That must be her," he said, pointing to the young woman in front of Narfi.

Turning the paper back around, she stared at the woman in the picture. She had shoulder-length black hair and black eyes, just like Narfi. One could definitely tell they were related.

"I guess I'll go return this to Narfi," she said, scooting over on the mattress to stand up, stretching her limbs and arching her back. She was suddenly aware of her state of undress, and froze, turning to look back over her shoulder, flushing when she met Zangetsu's hungry gaze, like he was the predator about to pounce on his prey.

"U-Um…"

"Get dressed," he husked. "Before I am unable to control myself."

Grimmjow squeaked, hurrying over to her leather armor that lay in a heap beside the bed. It was still a little damp, but she pulled it on anyways. She clipped the straps back up, until all her skin was covered accept for her hands, feet, and head. She slipped her hands into the gloves, and then sat down on the bed beside Zangetsu who had been watching her dress. She pulled on her boots, took her cowl, and then slipped it over her head so it was resting on her shoulders like a hood. She shook her hair so it fell over one shoulder, and ran her fingers through it to untangle the strands, then she pulled it up into a high ponytail.

Zangetsu stood, stretching like she had, walking over to the wardrobe that was across the room.

"Where did you get those clothes?" Grimmjow wondered, eyeing the loose trousers on his legs.

"They were in here," he rapped his knuckles on the door of the wardrobe. "I wanted to sleep in something more comfortable." He pulled open the drawers, reaching inside to pull out a neatly folded bundle of his Dark Brotherhood armor. Then, with no ounce of shame, he dropped the trousers to his ankles and kicked them off, returning them to the cupboard.

All of him was revealed, except for the thin garment around his hips that hid his most intimate areas. He was all corded muscle, but he was not bulky. He had enticingly tan skin, and she had to wonder where he got it. She knew that she was certainly not going to get a tan in Skyrim, of all places.

He was teasing her, she realized with a scowl, but she was sure that with her red face she did not look too intimidating. He pulled on his armor with slow, graceful movements, making her eyes follow his hands as skin was covered. Then when he was done, he pulled up his hair into a high ponytail also, turning back to her.

"Well, let us get going. I would like to complete this contract already," he said, walking over to the wall to pick up something. Grimmjow had not noticed them before, but she supposed they were hidden by his hair and she never saw them. They were two swords, with black, oddly shaped scabbards, and he was pulling them over his shoulders to put them in an 'X' formation on his back.

She did the same with her weapons, returning them back to her person, and then slinging the rucksack back over her shoulder. Grimmjow followed Zangetsu out into the common room, the hearth burning and people sitting around it and in the benches along the walls. They went back down to the banks of the river without interruptions, and they crossed the water, until they were standing in front of the destroyed farmhouse where Narfi lived.

Eerily, he was standing out in the yard, staring up at the steep slopes of the Throat of the World with wide eyes.

Grimmjow hesitated, before calling out, "Narfi."

The man flinched, spinning towards her. "I miss Reyda," he rambled. "She was so nice to Narfi. Narfi's sad he can't be with Reyda."

"I found Reyda's necklace," she said, holding the jewelry up so Narfi could see it.

He grabbed for it, the most innocent, hopeful look crossing his face as he cradled the necklace. "Reyda! You saw Reyda? Did you tell her Narfi cries? Did you tell her Narfi never said goodbye like mother and father?"

"Sorry Narfi," she frowned, "she's dead."

"Oh no! No, no, no. Narfi never got to say goodbye! Now Narfi's all alone…" he whimpered. "At least Narfi has Reyda's necklace… reminds Narfi of his sister. Thank you for giving this to Narfi." He turned away, walking back to his home, cradling the necklace and mumbling to himself.

"Go on. I would like to get to Windhelm soon," Zangetsu said softly.

She sighed, pulling out an iron dagger she had hidden on her armor. She hated doing this, since Narfi retained a childlike innocence, and she was definitely not going to kill children. But she reminded herself that this was a grown man, probably older than she.

Rushing forward on soundless feet, she readied her blade. In a quick motion, she reached around Narfi's front and slashed her dagger across his throat. He let out an awful gurgling noise for a moment as he choked on her own blood, spitting it out onto the grass. His body went limp, slumping forward until he dropped to his knees, and then collapsed onto the ground in a heap.

"Let's go," she said, wiping her dagger on the grass to clean it of the blood, before returning it to its place in her armor. She turned, stalking back towards the Vilemyr Inn, towards their horses that were still tied on their posts.

"Well done," the faint comment came from Zangetsu, and even if it was not much, her heart fluttered at the praise.

Now, they had to head to Windhelm, where her second contract awaits.

**xXxXx**

**A/N:**** This chapter was a lot longer than I wanted it to be, and the Narfi stuff wasn't supposed to last an entire chapter… but I finally got their relationship started… Maybe it was a little abrupt xD Anyways, the next update might be somewhat late. I'm on a trip this weekend, and I won't have the weekend to spend my time writing.**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**- Shiro -**


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